Blood Lines
by Nazran
Summary: The Boy-Who-Lived disappeared from his protection at a very young age and isn't seen for years. Now for the coming dark times he returns but very different from the expected. He has power now, control and alone Harry seeks his vengeance against those whom stole his life away from beneath him. Harry Potter has accepted his Blood Lines, will the wizards? Every Hogwarts year. Romance
1. Part I: Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer:**__ for this and all future chapters of this story:_ any publicly recognizable material remains the exclusive property of its respected owner JKR and/or any affiliated entities. No infringement is intended by this works and no monetary gain is in existence. _(some material or concepts may be borrowed from other works on this site or others as after dozens and even hundreds of read stories one tends to subconsciously use such material, along with the 450 000 plus stories using this 'verse ideas will inadvertently overlap. Inform me of material used from other authors on this site or others and i gladly will give them their due credit.) Obviously I would appreciate if my ideas were not plagiarized or taken without my permission._

_**Info:**_ rating for language and excessive violence throughout. May contain bashing but as to who remains undetermined. Elves do make an appearance in the beginning along with some references and appearances later on. Vampires also present. Special wand materials may appear as well. NO Horcruxes. Different magical animals. Internet name database for Elven names used. Harry will be nonhuman, powerful, cold, intelligent, murderous, and driven by his own motivations. Eventual HarryxTonks pairing with possible pairings for other characters. Ron and Hermione not his best friends. Tonks will be powerful but she'll build up to it, clumsy, Auror, she will maintain canon age, with luck she won't be a Sue. Will encompass several years prior to Hogwarts (not so briefly), every year he attends, the summers between school time and potentially after Hogwarts although it remains to be seen.

At a young age the famous Harry Potter disappears from his last living relatives'. He is not seen or heard for years. Meanwhile Hogwarts continues to educate its students, unaware of the darkness knocking on the door. What hides in the depths of the Forbidden Forest? What motivates it? A monster set upon a single goal, selfish yet saving more than one hidden world. A creature both light and dark, fighting for none, but saving all.

Reviews welcome, be they flames or not.

* * *

_**Blood Lines**_

_**Part I**_

_**Chapter 1**_

* * *

Elven Forest, United Kingdom

9pm-June 1, 1987

"What are we going to do? It is surfacing, rising breaking through the blocks and soon he will turn. It's so early in his life, what if he can't control it? And what if they find him? What if his power goes to his head? Makes him cruel?"

"Relax. He is a good mortal, suffering has made him so, and the power will not tempt him to the dark. As for them, do not worry I have someone watching him. She will protect him against their forces. And control? It will come with time."

"Who is watching him?"

"Sylmae."

"You're kidding! She's only just beginning the fourth step of her training."

"Precisely! She's young, she will still be able to relate to him if he changes and has to be taken away from those humans."

"What of the wizards? What of Dumbledore?"

"Dumbledore is an arrogant fool. He believes that the boy is safe under the wards that he has placed on the boy's dwelling. They are nonexistent and the immortals will be able to find him and drink from him, if he changes we have to get him out of the city and here where we will be able to protect him."

"Are you certain he will survive it?"

"Please my old friend trust me, he will be fine and Sylmae will help him when it happens."

"Okay, I will leave this to you but if it doesn't work out like what you think it will then next I will be forced to go against you, the Eldars are pressuring me to discount your claims. If you were anyone else I would not allow this, remember that."

"Thank you my liege."

* * *

No. 4 Privet Drive, London

12pm-June 15, 1987

"GET IN THERE YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE WHELP! YOU CAN STAY IN THEIR FOR THE REST OF THE WEEK!"

'Thunk.' Harry Potter's head collided painfully with the back wall of the tiny cupboard as his large beefy uncle tossed him in viciously. He tumbled down onto the lumpy, mouldy, dingy little mattress stuffed roughly into the confined space. Mildew, dust and spiders covered the walls, ceiling, and floor of Harry's place of residence but he didn't care he had lived in the cupboard his whole life, even as a baby.

He dragged himself up, wincing slightly as the fabric of his clothing brushed over his sensitive bruising and wounds. He could feel the back of his head getting slick and wet with a warm sticky substance. Harry reached up and touched the place, bringing his hand back in front of his face he stared at the blood coating his fingers in the dim light filtering through the gaps in the shutter like doors.

Harry was beaten often by the Dursleys, almost every other day. It was commonplace in the house now and the only thing anyone worried about was getting blood on the carpet. This one had been over another one of the strange incidents that occurred to him occasionally. This time his aunt had been trying to force an especially revolting old jumper of Dudley's but the more she tried to fit it onto him the smaller it appeared to get until it was no larger than something a glove puppet would wear. Petunia had passed it off as shrinking in the wash but Vernon was still suspicious and so had decided it was better to smack Harry about for insurance.

Taking the blood he wrote slowly and with purpose on the wall in thick block letters:

_I will escape here._

For six nearly seven years he had been treated this way, like an animal, a slave, nothing more than an unwanted burden upon his aunt and uncle's lives. He was an intelligent boy and knew this was true, they hated that they needed to house him and live in his presence. He had no illusions about what he was to them and lived out the days of his life doing the chores and housework they felt no need to do. Harry was brilliant and mature, with knowledge beyond his years and he knew that it couldn't have been legal for the Dursleys to treat him as such.

Using his hand he scraped the rest of the blood off his head and wiped it on his mattress edge. He switched position from sitting casually on the mattress to sitting cross legged on it. He closed his eyes and rested his arms loosely on his upper thighs, flexing the fingers once then letting them go limp. He slowed down his breathing, retreating deep into his mind and entering a meditative state.

Harry had discovered the ability to do this after a particularly brutal beating. He had been thrown into his cupboard panicked, his breath coming in rapid shallow gasps then he began to feel light headed and his vision blurred. Desperately he had tried to calm himself, lying flat back on the bed and breathing very slowly and deeply. Eventually Harry had calmed himself and fallen into a trance; he only came out of it three days later when his aunt had forced him into working again. Strangely he found that even though it had been three days he felt no thirst or hunger as if his body had stopped functioning enough to require sustenance.

The next time he had been beaten and confined to his cupboard Harry attempted the trance again and found it even easier to enter and that it allowed him to think very clearly about anything he felt the need to, he could organized his mind and thoughts and let his body recuperate. One time when he had entered this state he had been bleeding and sore but when he had awoken, a few hours later, the bruises were gone and the cut was healed with only a thin shiny pink line as evidence that anything had ever been there.

These times when he was in trances he could see things, he drifted through memories and emotions, he felt the hate and anger and sadness that had plagued him in earlier years before he learned control. Harry remembered things from when he was a baby; he saw a beautiful woman with flaming red hair and a man with raven black hair. Instinctively he knew the couple were his parents. He also saw flashes of other people; a man with sandy brown hair a tired look but who always smiled, a man with long dark hair always laughing and talking, and a fair-haired, big bellied man standing with a woman with soft features, black hair and wide kind eyes, a little girl no older than seven or eight stood between them her hair constantly cycling through colors and lengths, a mischievous look on her face.

The visions instilled him with warmth and feeling of belonging. It was something he had never felt in his waking life before, those who were supposedly family despised him, called him freak and bastard. But the people he saw never spoke, they just smiled and looked at him and as sad as it was that was the most kindness anyone had showed to him.

He knew that all of this; the trance, the visions, the healing, everything was odd, impossible. But odd things had been happening to him from the first day he had arrived at the Dursleys so he thought little about it. Actually considering some of the stuff that had happened, seeing the image of his dead parents and images of other people he felt he knew was nothing strange at all. It was really rather normal.

He smirked; eyes still closed still meditating. Once again he was confined to the cupboard he called a refuge but only for the rest week. It should have been a comfort but it really wasn't; it was Monday and the rest of the week meant the whole week until the next Monday.

* * *

No. 4 Privet Drive, London

10am-June 22, 1987

Bright unnatural light flooded into the cupboard startling Harry out of his meditation. He squinted up to see the silhouette of his aunt's head in the doorway.

"Get up! Come on there's work to do. You've been allowed to lounge about for a week, now hurry up!"

Harry picked himself up slowly. _Lounge? That's what you call locking me in a cupboard? _He thought to himself bitterly. He ran a hand through his long unruly hair remembering the look on his aunt's face when she had shaved it but the next day it was back and even longer, another example of strange things happening around him.

A list was shoved into his hands, "Here do these, then maybe you will get some water and a bit of bread." His aunt said imperiously as if it was supposed to motivate him. "And wash that blood off, you're disgusting."

He looked up into her dull beady eyes with his deep emerald ones, a blank look on his face. She stared back for a second before looking away uneasily. He mentally smirked at her, taking pleasure at her lack of comfort around him; his eyes always unnerved people. Harry blinked and nodded looking at the list and reading it over.

_Cut grass_

_Weed garden_

_Water garden_

_Clean greenhouse_

_Wash windows_

_Take out rubbish_

He blinked once again. The list was short, abnormally short, barely a fourth of his usual workload. Shrugging to himself Harry turned and walked out the front door, stopping to water and weed the hydrangeas then going around the side of the house and into the backyard. Where, after taking the time to spray his head down and comb the dried blood out of his hair with his hands, he proceeded to diligently but methodically work at the list of chores that the Dursleys required him to do to receive food and water and be allowed to be in the house.

Hours later Vernon Dursley returned from his work at Grunnings Drills. Apparently he had had a good day having yelled at several people, gave three different lectures and fired two incompetent employees. He was in high spirits and didn't even grumble too much at Harry for being out of his cupboard.

Before the Dursleys sat down for dinner Harry was thrown back into his cupboard. He sat in the small area his ear pressed against the door trying to hear the conversation of the horse, and the two whales. While not really interested in what was said Harry listened because he had nothing else for him to do while in his cupboard besides meditate.

"So Dudley . . . ready for your birthday tomorrow?" Vernon grunted through a mouthful of food.

Nothing was said but Harry could imagine the fat little boy nodding furiously while shovelling obscene amounts of food into his mouth. Then Harry realized what Vernon had said and knocked his head against the door. _No, no, no, no, no not that. Please anything but that. _It was Dudley's birthday, the one day that every year Harry was guaranteed to have to spend the day at Mrs. Figg's house.

He hated it there, the whole house reeked of cabbage and cat litter and the old lady made him look at huge photo albums filled completely with pictures of hundreds and hundreds of cats.

He was kept in his 'room' for the rest of the evening, left to stew in the dread that now filled him. Harry did not sleep that night; he tried but failed for what he guessed was about two hours but to no avail. Eventually he had no choice but to utilize his meditation to get any kind of rest at all for the next day.

* * *

No. 4 Privet Drive, London

8am-June 23, 1987

'_Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.' _Harry slowly came out of his trance, not rested at all. He shook his head as dust trickled down from the slanted step ceiling of the cupboard. Harry sighed today was the day he would be sent to a place that was worse torture than the Dursleys.

'_Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.' _"Wakey, wakey, Potty! Time to make my Birthday breakfast!" Dudley screamed loudly as he slammed his way up and down the stairs repeatedly. It was something of a ritual for Dudley to do this on his birthday seeing as he could get away with anything on the day.

Harry grabbed his glasses, having taken them off before settling into the meditation the night before, and slipped them on. The world went from a very blurry vague mass to a slightly less blurry mass of shapes. He sighed and blinked, the glasses he had were old, so old that now when he wore them it didn't improve his sight much beyond what it was without them.

He pushed open the door and crawled out slowly trying to figure out where Dudley had gotten too, amazed that the boy was awake so early. Fortunately the obese land whale had moved into the kitchen and had begun to count his many presents. Harry trudged in and immediately began to prepare a huge breakfast of bacon, eggs, sausage, beans, toast and coffee; he had been cooking since he was big enough to lift the pans. He served it to them on special extra large plates reserved for the feasts on Vernon's and Dudley's birthdays. Not that he expected any but he received no thanks.

Every year after the birthday breakfast Dudley's best friend Piers Polkiss came over and then Vernon and Petunia took them out for a day of fun parks and other activities. When they returned more of the whale's friends would come over and then a party would ensue with balloons and the like. After everyone had gone home Harry would be retrieved from Mrs. Figg's and put into a one man workforce for cleaning up.

He cleared the dishes while Dudley resumed greedily examining each individual gift still wrapped up in paper. Harry put the last of the dishes away and started to creep back into the hall and into his cupboard to await the last little bit before he was dumped off at the cat lady's home. He made it most of the way there, then there was a knock at the door. Dudley thundered by shoving Harry hard into the wall. He ripped the door open and welcomed in Piers.

Piers was a scrawny boy, rat faced and even worse than Dudley. He was the one who usually chased down the kids who ran from the gang and pinned them to the ground holding their arms behind their back while the others caught up. He would then pull them up and hold them still so Dudley and his other friends beat them up,

While Harry was a skinny boy, probably because he had lived under the stairs for so long, he was fast and surprisingly tall, taller than most other kids his age. Most of the time he was able to outrun Dudley and his friends, but if Piers was with them and the boy got going there was no way to escape, no matter whom you were. The only time he had ever actually escaped Piers was when he was running away from them at the primary school they went to and much to everyone's surprise, especially Harry's, he ended up on top of the school kitchens.

He scrambled up from the hardwood floor and without looking at the door bolted for the back. Harry made his way as quickly as possible for the back door hoping that Piers hadn't noticed him and coerced Dudley into his favourite sport, Harry Hunting. He made it to the door and pushed it aside and sprinting into the back. Then his momentum was halted completely.

Piers had noticed him fleeing and after greeting Dudley quickly vanished off in pursuit. He kept Harry in his sites and smirked evilly when the door slowed harry down as he opened it. Polkiss slipped through the door as it swung closed and dived at Harry. He managed to tangle up Harry's legs and send him pitching forward into the ground.

Immediately Piers dragged himself up over Harry and grabbed his arms and wrenched them back painfully. Clasping the other boy's wrists together with one surprisingly strong hand as the other reached up grabbed a hand full of Harry's long unruly hair and smashing his head down crushing it into the dirt. Moments later Dudley lumbered up a little out of breath even from such a short run and he and Piers worked together to haul Harry up off the ground.

Piers remained behind him locking his arms behind his back so he could not move. Dudley moved around to in front of Harry and looked him in the eye an amazingly sadistic expression on his face. Harry stared back defiantly, piercing Dudley with his very bright emerald green gaze. His cousin looked away but pounded his right fist into his left hand then pulled back preparing to send his large pudgy fist colliding into Harry's ribs.

"Dudley, Piers, boy, it's time to go!" Mr. Dursley yelled uproariously from the front yard.

The two boys dropped Harry, grumbling about their fun being ruined. Harry breathed a sigh of relief, _thank you Uncle Vernon! _To avoid his torturers Harry went through the house as they went around the side. He opened the front door and closing it behind him he walked to the car.

"Boy! Hurry up we haven't got all day for you to dawdle." Vernon said loudly from the driver seat of his car.

Harry quickened his pace and jumped quickly into the back of the vehicle not failing to notice that his uncle said absolutely nothing when his fat son and his scrawny friend arrived fully five minutes later. They didn't rush at all leisurely climbing into the back and forcing Harry into one side, pushing him into the door severely.

He grimaced slightly. It was a terrible experience, to be stuck in a small car with two whales, a horse and a rat. Even considering that he was barely ever given a chance to wash besides with the garden hose Harry smelt better than the cheap after shave, perfume and old food that rolled off the occupants of the car.

They travelled the two streets over and drove past Mrs. Figg's house. Without even slowing down Harry was ejected from the car forcefully to tumble down onto the curb scratched and lightly bruised again. He sat on the sun warmed pavement for a moment before pushing himself up and going to the door.

He tentatively knocked catching whiffs of cat litter and cabbage even through the door. He waited after knocking and a moment later a short batty old woman answered the door smiling almost creepily at Harry. She ushered him in right away not pausing for a second as she plopped him down on an uncomfortable old couch and brought out several impossibly thick photo albums.

For the next several hours Harry remained as stoic as possible through the seemingly endless torture of cat pictures. He took it all in stride, wanting to prove to himself that he could take the mental anguish like he took the physical pain of the beatings handed out by Dudley and Vernon.

But finally at around five o'clock he had all he could take and politely asked if could go for a walk. Arabella Figg reluctantly agreed that Harry could go out for awhile but only if he went only as far as the park and was back in five minutes. The Dursleys would be back soon it would be best if Harry was in the house and did not appear to have gone out at all.

Harry gratefully left the house and began a slow leisurely walk to the nearby park. As he walked he closed his eyes and breathed the warm fresh air in deeply. He loved the outdoors, he always had; maybe it was because of the cupboard, it didn't matter really. To Harry nature was beautiful and for him to be in it made him feel free, feel like his life was not a sad joke that he had no hope of leaving behind.

He made it to the park and headed for the rather large brightly coloured but worn wooden construct in the middle of the barren open lot. He climbed into a cubby there, shielded from the relentless sun. He lay in the shade relaxing basking in the piece resulting being away from everyone. Slowly his eyes got heavier and heavier until finally he fell into a deep sleep.

_FLASH_

_A massive forest stood before him, pool stretching for hundreds of feet on across the face of it. The trees came forward, stopping halfway from the closest edge of the pool, leaving several dozen feet protruding from the trees. Strange bioluminescent water plants glittered underneath the beautiful clear blue water._

_A snow white mist slithered through the trees and crawled across the water. A large group of people stepped forward from the trees, all tall, slim and elegant. One man was ahead of the group, taller than the rest and very dignified._

"_Welcome to your new home Harry Potter." He said stretching out his arms invitingly._

_FLASH_

_He was kneeling in a clearing in the forest, dozens of the tall elegant people standing around him in a ring, it was night. They were all garbed in similar clothing; long pants of shimmering cloth that changed colors in different lights acting as a camouflage, tucked into high boots and long sleeved shirts of the similar cloth. Most of them had a variety of weapons from small daggers to large long bows strapped to or arrayed on their bodies._

_The man who had greeted him when he had arrived was now standing in front of him smiling gently down at him. He spoke, "Harry you have been here for a few years now and you have completed your training. In our culture you are now an adult and we present you with your coming of age gift."_

_The man brought out a rectangular box of black lacquered wood; it shined in the fire light. The man held it forward and undid the clasps, gently lifting the lid . . ._

_FLASH_

_The pool at the edge of the forest slowly turned red as the blood of dozens of dead bodies seeped into it. He stood at the bank of it facing away from the pool where the border of the Elvin Realm began. He was shirtless and only a thin pair of now shredded pants covered his legs. His chest heaved, his knuckles white as he clutched the twin blades of steel tightly in his hands, bright sticky blood dripping from the razor edges and crawling down his toned muscles, the large black wings that had sprouted from his back flexing._

_His black-green eyes locked with amber orbs, an Elf girl stared at him. bright eyes gathered moisture as they stared at each other, he blinked at her curiously. His eyes then found the man, the one who had welcomed him to the forest. He was readying a vessel, to take across the pond._

_The Elf glanced up, their sight locking together. The two stared for but a moment; then he faded in silence from view, insubstantial black material rising up around him._

_FLASH_

_He was standing in darkness, thick oily black caressing his pale skin slowly and softly. A shiver drifted through his body when the whispers started. Languages he had never heard before reached his ears and while he couldn't understand any of it, it truly frightened him._

_A warm but clawed hand gripped his shoulder and he spun around but saw nothing. A cold laugh reverberated through the clouds of dark impossible to place. Footsteps and the rustling of reptilian skin came from beside him but nothing was there._

"_Are you afraid Harry? Do you fear us?"_

"_N-no." he stuttered out trying to keep his slipping facade in place._

"_Liar!" a slight breeze tickled him, "Be afraid Harry Potter, so very afraid. . . ."_

_A flutter, a shift and a large dark being swung towards him, crashing into him and forcing him to the invisible ground. He choked and gasped desperately as he was smothered by the dark and crushed by an impossible weight. Then the weight disappeared with the dark thing to be replaced by blinding white light._

_FLASH_

Harry bolted upright, panicked. He swung his head back and forth wildly still in a daze. _What the hell was that?_ He hauled himself upright and made his way out of the wooden play area. It was then he realized that the sun was low in the sky. He was late, the Dursleys would be furious. He was going to beaten to a pulp when he got back to the house.

He began to rush back to where what one would call his home, noticing the tall black thunder clouds rolling in rapidly. Really not wanting to get caught in the approaching storm he picked up his pace as feeling of foreboding crept through him. Speed walking from one faint pool of light cast by street lamps to the next not pausing once, he went down Magnolia Road.

Harry turned down Magnolia Crescent and walked along the street turning again into the alley leading to Wisteria Walk. He made it halfway before a sixth sense told him something was coming. He spun around as fast as he could, just in time to catch a large figure cloaked in black slam into him and push him up against the high red brick wall that made up one side of the alley.


	2. Part I: Chapter 2

_**Blood Lines**_

_**Part I**_

_**Chapter 2**_

* * *

They watched their chosen prey quietly from the roof of a nearby house, the young boy hurrying back to his home through the night. Their cloaks swished, whispering of the impending doom set for the young one. One moved forward confidently ready to bleed the boy into a dry husk of skin and meat, the other hesitated.

"Why are you doing this? He just a child, it's cruel for you to take his future away." The hesitant one pleaded.

"I don't care! I'm taking him, he smells of power. We won't have to fear the older ones anymore; we'll be free if I do this." The other snarled angrily.

"We won't have to fear? We'll be free? You're doing this for yourself. I have nothing to fear, I'm not aggressive, and I don't try to move up in the hierarchy. It's all you, I would be just fine to live normally but you have an insatiable need to try and beat out everyone."

"Shut up! I'm doing it for us, Katherine, can't you see that. Now come on he's in the alley."

The man moved off along the roof tops dropping silently to the pavement at the opening of the alley and creeping towards the boy. Katherine just sighed and followed knowing she would be hurt if she did not follow. She hated how he lived, only for blood and power not caring about anything or anyone else. Why did he have to let her be changed, why couldn't just take the rest of her blood so she died?

* * *

Little Whinging, London

7pm-June 23, 1987

'Thump!' Harry hit the wall painfully and was lifted off his feet by the figure. The hood was pulled back and he found himself staring into the cold black eyes filled with animal hunger. The hand moved up to his throat and squeezed hard making Harry choke. Another figure arrived, dressed in the same clothing but the build of the figure identified her as a woman.

The man leaned in and sniffed, growling slightly at the scent. He moved the hand on Harry's throat down to just below his collar bone and clutched the loose shirt; the other hand grasped the boy's hair and wrenched it to the side dragging his head with it. The man's head came closer dragging his teeth over the sensitive skin covering Harry's major arteries.

"Stop playing, if you're going to take his blood do it quickly so he doesn't suffer." The woman said furiously and with some disgust and frustration.

The man's eyes flicked to her glaring angrily but he started the bite, ignoring Harry's thrashing limbs. Harry felt two long pointed teeth enter his skin cutting through it like tissue paper. Hot blood welled up out of the circular puncture wounds and the man began to drink hungrily.

Harry began to weaken slowly as the blood was drained from his body. He started to convulse violently even as his struggles weakened and his eyes rolled up into the back of his head. Still shaking violently the blood left in him began to burn and it spread through his body while skin began to shift and move as his muscles grew and hardened. The bones in his face rearranged themselves forming a sharper jaw line and making him look like a bird of prey; sharp, predatory with an intense stare. His fingernails disappeared altogether, his fingers sharpened into claws and his canine teeth moulded into longer sharper deadly tools. The burning pain centralized itself into two long lines on the edges of his shoulder blades, closest to his spine, and with a very sudden sharp 'crack' a set of wings, large black feathered wings exploded out of his back.

His hands shot up to the man's wrists still clutching Harry although he had halted in drinking his blood and was staring at Harry his black eyes wide. Harry's eyes snapped open revealing a set of the deepest darkest and yet still the brightest green eyes staring back at him filled with a primal rage. The man was flung backwards with enough force to push him back into the opposite brick wall.

While falling back to the ground Harry folded his legs underneath him and pushed off the wall flying across the alley and colliding with the man crushing him deeper into the wall. He took hold of the man's cloak at the shoulders and set his feet against his abdomen and opened his mouth wide. He swung it down at the man's throat his new teeth easily cutting through the flesh and ripping out the man's throat from under his ear to his wind pipe.

Bright red viscous liquid squirted violently from the huge gaping wound soaking Harry down in second and draining the man. They dropped to the dirty pavement of the alley landing in a pool of cooling blood. Harry slowly rose from the corpse long syrupy tendrils sliding from his blood covered face and neck.

He stared at the woman internally struggling with an animal desire to charge her and tear her throat out, the instinctual urge was overwhelming. Snarling he fought it down remembering the compassion in what she had said earlier. Shaking his head trying to clear it, he swallowed.

"Get out of here." He choked out.

She stood there staring at him, a deer caught it headlights.

Do it! Take her life, tear her flesh drink her blood . . . you want to, you can feel the desire, the thirst, the craving for her blood. You must, you are a parasite now, accept that and feed give in.

No! Harry resist him. Don't do it Harry. Focus. Fight him off, don't let him take control.

"Now!" he said louder more assertive, desperately trying to ignore her scent and the malicious voice egging him on.

She turned and disappeared into the darkness. He looked down at the ground and froze; it had stormed, was going to storm again judging from the black clouds casting darkness, earlier in the week and while most of the residual water had dried there was still a small pool of it in a dip in the cement. In this pool Harry had found himself staring at an image of himself he barely recognized as even human never mind him.

His ratty tattered clothing clung to his now not so thin frame, slicked down with blood as it was. His body now had true shape to it besides bones thinly covered by skin. His normally bright green eyes were even more intense and had deeper clearer colour but shone with something strange, inhuman, a burning presence fighting for control. It was that presence that fuelled the voice, it was something he didn't know what to call or even how to understand but there was another, one that countered the other and pushed it back slightly.

Here he comes again Harry.

You will succumb to me eventually you know. Why fight it? Why drag out the inevitable? I am you, your mind, your body; everything about you is now also me, Potter. I am the true instinct, the animal, the beast, the Demon.

Harry grimaced, fighting an impossible battle against the thing that dubbed itself the Demon. It threatened to take him over, overwhelm his being and everything that made him Harry Potter. With a last desperate push he forced the presence back draining his strength rapidly as it was thrust into the back of his mind. He fell to his knees his vision flickering like an old light bulb and he collapsed into darkness.

A girl stepped from the deep shadows of the alley a bow held slackly in his hands a silver tipped arrow knocked. She looked to be about ten years old but her amber eyes belied an intense knowledge. One would mistake her for a human child except for her ears which swept up to delicate points. She was clothed in a set of dark pants and long sleeved shirt with calf high boots of the same soft silky cloth.

She crept over to Harry, not making any noise as her feet touched down to the pavement. She prodded him lightly with one end of the long bow checking to make certain he was out. He didn't react so she shifted his head to the side to check his bite wound, a ghost of a smile touching her lips. She rolled him over and folded his wings and strapped them down. Then grabbing both of the boy's arms she hoisted him up and threw him over his shoulder and apparating.

Thanking her Elven strength—he weighed a lot more than any normal six year old now—she gently lowered Harry to the mossy floor of the forest just outside London with a small creek running through it. Her weapons―the bow, a quiver full of silver tipped arrows, a long straight dagger, a ten inch long curved claw-like knife and several smaller curved blades―taken off and laid down next to her, she set her back against a tree and settled in to wait.

Her thoughts cast back over the last few months of watching the human boy. She had been shocked at how strong he was, taking all of the punishment and cruelty that he had. It had been admirable how he kept his silence through the brutal beatings and periodical starving. But she had learnt little about him she didn't already know, he had spoken once while she watched him and the human children at his school acted as though he hadn't existed.

The night her father had set her the task of observing him popped into her mind.

* * *

_Elven Forest, United Kigdom_

_5pm-August 4, 1986_

_"You asked for me father?" she queried quietly._

_'Yes, thank you for coming Sylmae. I have found a test for you my dear. You have completed the first stages of your training and have progressed into another. Your task is to go out into the human world and watch a boy, a very special boy, until such time that he experiences a change. This change will likely be very drastic and very obvious, I cannot tell you what it will be only that when it happens you must get him out of there."_

_"This doesn't seem like much of a test."_

_The tall dignified elf chuckle, "Trust me my daughter it will combine all your meditation, physical work, stealth training and weapons knowledge to remain undetected. It is very possible that you will remain there for many months awaiting this change. The bloods will almost surely begin to hunt him down; you must protect him as much as possible."_

_"Why not send Eleniel or Nardual," she asked naming an Elf more ancient than any other and another greatly gifted in hunting, while confidant she would be able to accomplish the task she didn't really want to thinking it would be dull work._

_"They will be noticed too easily but you, you can blend in easily. And before you ask none of the other apprentices are ready for such a task."_

_"Ok father I will do as you ask."_

_"Ah Sylmae, I can sense your disappointment, it's not well hidden. Don't worry it will be much more difficult than you think it will be. The Bloods that do search him out will not be newly changed; they will be at least a few years old if not decades or even centuries."_

_"Yes father."_

_"Sylmae don't sulk so much, there will be plenty of action when he changes. I know that is what you want, to fight in the war is an altering thing, though, one you should not have to face when so young."_

_She smiled a little bit; they had been through this conversation many times in the week since she had decided she wanted to fight. He always said she was too young to join the war against the Bloods or Vampires as they were commonly called by the humans. Her counter was that she was about to enter more weapons training and the war was the perfect place to train._

_She opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off, "No, no, no, no arguing you're going on this mission, it's your test. You can't change it or switch it out like the other apprentices try to. Do this Sylmae."_

_She bowed her head in acceptance. There was no going against her father once he had made his decision and backed it._

* * *

After that she had been given her kit for the test; her weapons, several changes of clothes, some nutrient boosting food for emergencies, and a note and outfit for the boy. Her wand, rarely used, was tuned and polished before being fitted to an enchanted wand holster. She was scheduled to leave for Surrey a week later

The name of the charge was given to her and she was told of the position Harry Potter was in. How he was regularly thrashed with belts and whips, worked like a slave, where he slept, how often he was fed, how he acted, much about him was told to her. Sylmae had voiced her questions as to why she was being sent to watch him if they could just watch him through scrying. She was told that it would take too long for anyone to reach him if he attacked by the bloods or he changed.

As much as she had persisted in asking she had yet to be informed as to what manner of change Harry would undergo. Everyone she thought would know either didn't or refused to tell her. All that had been said was that it would be obvious, sudden, painful for him and dangerous for others around him especially the humans.

While she had not been very excited about it at first over the week she had to prepare for her test her yearning to go increased. Many of the other apprentices were jealous of her chance to leave the great forest for her task and that encouraged her to go even more. It would be a chance for her to get to see the outside world beyond the edge of the trees and the surrounding mountains.

She had been seen off by her father, the Eldars and the other apprentices, her friends growing up. It had been simple, she left the trees with everyone else waiting just inside their shadows and she apparated to a forest farther away, then she apparated to another forest then another until finally she could no closer to Surrey by that method. During the week she had been readying herself she had studied up on humans and had had no problems going the rest of the way to Little Whinging.

She watched him for months, observed the hours upon hours he toiled tirelessly in the yards of No. 4 and with complicated spells watched him as he spent days at a time inside the cupboard. She marvelled at his discipline, meditating without any instruction or help. He had even appeared to sense her a few times as his head had snapped up suddenly without warning to look around.

There was no doubt that Harry was special. It was plain in the way he acted and carried himself, with more dignity and calm than any other human she had ever encountered, even more so considering the position he was in. He was conscious of the fact that he could easily unnerve people or intimidate them with his stunning deep green eyes.

He would make a good elf, she thought to herself as she watched him appraisingly. He slept quite peacefully for someone who had been through what he had. She had a vague idea of what he was, it was in the tales of the early years but for the life of her she couldn't recall the name of them. A couple of the older Eldar may have been living when the last of them had lived but other than that she knew nothing.

Sylmae reached over and drew one of the shorter blades and examined it. It was curved slightly, gracefully and about six inches long from tip to tip. These knives were designed to be thrown at the opponent, usually Bloods. In fact they were built with Vampires, in particular, in mind, all of her weapons were; tooled of silver and magic to cause bleeding and burning, they would reduce Vampires to ash eventually, excruciating pain preceding the process

She turned it in her hands contemplating what do next but a light breeze brought a shocking awakening. It carried with it the light scent of blood mixed with a cold metallic quality. She recognized it instantly as the icy cold odor that permeated vampires. She bolted up and grabbed her weapon belts moving the short distance to Harry, whose wings, teeth and nails had now retreated, breathing a sigh of relief that trees were widely spaced and there was a gap between the tree line and stream.

Knocking an arrow she dropped to one knee in front of Harry and pulled to half draw, waiting for them to appear. As the belt of edged weapons brushed against the unconscious form it stirred slightly and groaned.

* * *

Forest outside London, England

7:30pm-June 23, 1987

_Wake up!_

He shook his head.

_Wake up Potter!_

Harry moaned, long and low in his throat.

_GET UP BOY!_

His eyes snapped open and he found himself staring at a dark cloudy sky. _What . . . whasgoinon? Uh . . . where am I?_ There was an incredibly painful pounding in his mind and his throat burned with a fiery rawness that made it difficult to breathe.

_Never mind that now, there's a fight happening. Get up and help the Elf out!_

_Elf? What Elf? Wait a minute, who are you? What are you? Why are you in my head?_

Harry swore he heard the voice sigh exasperated. _We went through this already. Get some weapons and fight. She won't last much longer if you don't help._

He sat up and looked around valiantly pushing the pain to the back of his mind. A girl was standing in a ring of large brutish looking men desperately fending their attacks off with her bow. Several lay nearby pierced by arrows and she was bleeding from her right leg. Her attackers many deadly weapons.

He knew immediately that he should help her and he would have tried even without the annoying insulting impetuous voice resounding through his head but he didn't know how to fight. Besides if had any clue as to how he didn't think he would stand a chance against the men with just his hands as he saw no weapons handy.

_You really are dim aren't you, fool._

It was a statement not a question.

_Look beside you._

He did and saw the plain leather-like belt with knife sheathes as its length. Are you crazy, I can't use those!

_Yes you can. Now shut up and do something._

Harry scrambled to his feet and picked up the belt staring at the knives along it, wondering what to do.

_Well pick one._

Oh. Right. He scanned through the selection rapidly picking out the larger of the curved knives he drew it. The handle of black material, curved ever so slightly in the opposite direction from the blade, had finger nail shaped dips along it and his long slim fingers wrapped around comfortably. The knife gently arched over like the claw of a grizzly bear he had once seen a picture of. At the end of the handle it swept outwards on both sides into a ring. The knife felt incredible in his hand, like part of him.

_It's supposed to be like that, now stop dawdling and go kill them._

He paled at the words the voice said. He couldn't kill anyone, it was . . . well he didn't really know what it was. But he did know that he had thought many times about how nice it would be to kill the Dursleys or for them to die, either one it didn't really matter as long as they weren't around.

Listen, release control of your body. Hand over the power and it will be taken care of, just as when we first are a disappointment though it seemed you were stronger, your memories displayed that. You're weak; you have done this before all you have to do is do it again.

Anger boiled up in Harry. A growl rumbled in his throat, partially from the anger and partially from the new animalistic side to him; The Demon. _I am not weak._

_Then stop trying to convince yourself of that and go help her before she is killed._

He looked down at the beautiful dagger in his hand and at the now dire scene before him and his face harden in determination. He analyzed what was happening in an instant all of his already heightened senses going in to overdrive at the prospect of a fight. There were nine of them, all large and heavily armed with a variety of swords and one had a spear but none wore any type of armour at all, from their smell he could tell they weren't human, the salty sweet copper scent of blood with a cold metal edge. Two lay dead pierced by arrows, blood pooled around them in large circular shapes.

The girl was holding them off, barely. Her shoulder leaked blood heavily and she limped as she spun around dodging attacks from them. Somehow he knew she was doing quite well but the Elf was rapidly losing strength. None of them were paying attention him, too concerned as they were with finishing her off.

He glanced down at the enchanting deadly weapon in his hand once again then back at the scene playing out. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath; his eyes flashed open the green deepening, his pupils contracting into tiny points of black in a sea emerald green, his vision tunnelled until he focussing only on the men while being hyper alert of everything else and they seemed to slow down to a snail pace. His hand clenched tightly around the knife and his veins stood out from his skin, the enhanced muscles on his body hardening and growing even more so.

**Yesss! Feel the power, embrace it, and let it have control.**

_Potter, remember who you are. Keep control of yourself._

He walked forward half of his own accord half because of the Demon urging him forward only retaining awareness because of the second voice, his right hand the one holding the weapon behind his back. The men still ignored him as came up behind one of them, even the others across the ring didn't react to him walking up. Not knowing exactly how he knew what to do or how he knew he could, Harry slammed the side of foot into back of the man's knee and as the shocked assailant buckled he grabbed the man's shoulder and pulled down and back. Harry brought his blade up and around driving deep into him, just above where his color bones met.

In the slow motion that had enveloped his vision blood squirted from the hole as the body began to drop but he wasn't paying attention. At the same instant the blood began to explode outwards he had already moved on and snapped up to man to the left grabbing his sword, wrenching it from his hand and driving it through him.

Even with their incredible reflexes and speed the other men and the elf hadn't noticed any of this but did when Harry has slowed down as he let the body slump to the grassy ground. They all froze, then the girl drove the ivory and silver capped end of her long bow deep into the man who was standing over her. Five of the remaining men moved towards Harry and the sixth remained to engage the injured she-elf.

He backed up slowly sizing up his opponents carefully and analyzing them. Three had swords, one two long wicked daggers and one a long eight foot spear. All the weapons were done in the Vampires own weaknesses; silver quenched in Holy Water, instinctively he knew his own weapons was forged like this and that he too was more vulnerable to it than regular weapons. All of them were large and very well muscled, granted speed by what they were. He halted and crouched bringing his dagger to bear and waited.

He need not long though as the one wielding with the spear lunged forward attempting to catch him through the middle with it. He sidestepped slightly and grabbed the weapon behind its head snapping the shaft with his other forearm. Harry reversed his grip of the severed part of the spear and stabbed his assailant in the eye with it, the tip sinking deep into the Vampire's brain.

The one with the two daggers tackled him from behind crashing them both in to the ground roughly, several feet from where Harry had stood. Harry twisted in his grip as the assailant tightened trying to hold him still. Razor edged teeth pierced the top of Harry's shoulder as the daggers in the man's hands now at Harry's back, pressed in painfully. He barred his teeth and gave a powerful heave breaking his arms free from their entrapment at his chest and forcing the Vampire's arms out wide. He snapped upright grabbing the man's arms, thrusting and smashing the man into a tree, Harry moved up the man until he was level with his face. Black eyes stared into solid green and with a motion fast enough to be barely perceptible the throat of the trapped Vampire disappeared.

It sprayed into Harry's mouth, a sticky torrent and he revelled in it, drinking it in and soothing the pain in his esophagus. He dropped off the body as it slumped to the soft mossy ground. Harry turned and realized his fatal mistake; during the struggle the other four had left and even as he observed they were beating and slashing at the Elf girl mercilessly with their weapons and razor like fingernails, taking sick pleasure in causing pain to her as her strength flagged.

Blood flowed freely from various wounds splitting her soft pale flesh. The sight incited anger in him; the cruelty reminded him of a slightly more severe Vernon Dursley. Vernon had always been quick to anger and very cruel with punishments. When he drank it was worse, every little thing could make him snap off the handle and go into a psychotic rage.

* * *

Number 4 Privet Drive, London

9am-1983

Harry crawled away slowly, tears oozing slowly from the corners of his eyes. He sobbed slightly when the thick knotted coil of hemp rope tore another line down his back. He didn't understand, it was only one plate, not even one of the expensive good one, why was he being punished like this?

The beating tool thumped to the hard floor and a large meaty hand pinched around the back of his neck. He was picked up and thrown back to the ground, the hand grasped his hair and dragged him back up to his feet. Vernon pinned Harry to the wall and leaned in close.

"If you ever, ever break anything of ours or ruin our breakfast again you little bastard, I swear to bloody god . . ." he snarled.

He was thrown into his cupboard and locked in. Left alone for how many days he didn't know, he was a captive of the very people who were supposed be taking care of him.

* * *

Harry's eyes flared violently and he began to phase. His eyes became solid green glowing seas, large veins in his body that were close to the surface of the skin swelled and pooped out, his teeth snapped back into inch and half long spikes, his fingers reformed into the claws and the black feathered wings cracked out of his back. Faster than any eye would have been able to react he appeared behind two of the men and grasped their shoulders wrenching and throwing them.

**Yes! Finally control.**

_No! Damn the mortal world._

They flew high into the air and Harry followed close behind. He hit one and thrust his hand into him; it appeared at the other of the Vampire's body clutching his heart. Pushing off he flapped the wings once and hit the other taking both of them into a tree. They impacted hard and with a resounding crash took the top half of the tree to the ground with them.

He left the fallen body of his foe crumpled and pierced by his hands along with the tree and shot back to one of the other men dragging him away from his intended prey. As they whipped past one of the corpses Harry yanked his knife from its eye. Holding the vampire against the tree as it struggled vainly he tore the knife roughly across his throat. He turned back and saw the last remaining Vampire standing over the Elf girl with his sword poised to plunge into her.

Harry smirked not of his own volition. He flipped the knife over in his hand and gripped the blade with his fore and middle finger and his thumb. He brought it up by his ear and flicked his arm down stopping it suddenly when it was level. It flipped through the air end over end its flight stopping when the razor sharp blade slid easily into the bone at the back of the sword wielding Vampire's skull.

As he slumped over, the girl just managed to drag herself back so she wasn't inadvertently impaled by his blade. The body though did land on her and she didn't have the strength left to shove him aside. Harry felt the tug of the Demon urging him to rip the she-elf apart starting by peeling her skin off.

Harry ignored it and calmly walked over to the trapped girl. He reached down and seized the cadaver by the shoulder and easily hauled it off tossing it several feet away. Helping her up, he shivered as the scent of her sweet blood assaulted him threatening his control, his pupils began to shrink again.

_Snap out of it Potter. You just killed seven men to save her life and you're losing it again. Come on have some integrity, if you were going to go into blood rage why didn't you do it when you were actually killing and spilling blood? Because you're an idiot, you have to learn when to feed on those who are your enemies. It wouldn't be prudent for you to feed on those who must train you especially when you have just changed, just wait it's quite sure you'll get an animal or something when you get to the Elves._

He closed his eyes tightly and slowed his breathing using methods that he used to focus when he was thrown into the cupboard. She tried to stand by herself but collapsed, he managed to catch before she had dropped more than a few inches.

"Come on, easy now," he said softly to her, "Now, where can we go to be safe?"

She coughed slightly and moaned in pain, "M-my home . . . here . . ." she reached out a hand weakly as more and more blood leaked from the wounds and touched two fingers to his forehead.

Harry gasped as images flashed through mind; the forest he had seen in his dream, the pond, the trees, a huge city like area dozens of feet in the air built into the trees. He began to drink the images in taking more in; visions of figures zipped through his mind, events flew by his eyes, he saw more Elves of the same age at play, teachers lecturing her.

He knees weaken and he fell to grass, the girl going with him as she had no support. He sucked in a breath strongly and pushed the images away. To invade her mind like that had been an exotic experience but he could feel the voice inside of him warning him of the addictive power one felt when they invaded minds and that he should be careful.

"Sorry."

She didn't reply so he looked down at her and noticed she was unconscious. He dragged himself and her up. _Great, how am I supposed to get to wherever that was?_

_Focus boy, find it within yourself. There is power inside of you, in your blood and body, search it out._

_How?_

_You must search._

Harry sighed and lowered the girl to the ground before looking around. Seeing all of the bodies and discarded weapons he moved among them and gathered the girl's bow, her arrows, including the few stuck into bodies, the belt of knives and wrenching hard the knife he had thrown at the final man. He carried them back to the girl and set them down.

He dropped into a cross legged position, making sure he contacted the girl and weapons with his body as the voice hinted at. He closed his eyes and breathed deep, turning into himself and sifting through his mind.

_Search for it._

_What? What am I searching for?_

_You'll know when you find it, now focus!_

Huffing indignantly Harry returned to searching his mind. He had never done anything this thorough before and it was a little disconcerting, it didn't help that he had no idea what he was looking for. Then randomly he came upon something strange, something unlike anything he had ever seen before.

An ocean of deep grey energy rested in his mind rocking gently with slow waves in a hypnotizing and irresistible way. Dark black thunderheads floated above the energy rumbling ominously with power. Grey glowing lightning lanced down into the water, flashing black light and screaming with rage.

_Good boy. You found it easily enough._

_What is it?_

It won't make any sense to you now but the ocean is your magical core, the waves represent the Allure, the lightning is what is commonly called the Fear and the cloud are the magic of the Abyss. All of it is very important to you now but the Abyss magic is the most dangerous; if you are not careful you will be lost to the grey infinity of the Realm of Lost Souls

_Right . . . Little bit dramatic aren't you._

Two thousand years we have waited, dormant for another to be found by the magic, finally it happens and you deem to patronize us? You Harry Potter know nothing of us. But here's what you have to do, and it will get easier the more you do it; you have to draw on the power. You must mentally draw on the cloud's energy to force it outside you body. Then you must picture where you wish to exit and a hole will appear for you to go through bringing you to where you wish to go. There are other things you may do with this but it inconsequential for now . . . along with other ways to travel.

Harry hummed to himself for a moment. While in his mind it appeared as though he was floating in limbo between the ocean and clouds just above the waves with the lightning curving down towards him as if he was a metal rod. In fact it appeared that the representations of his apparent abilities were condensing around him.

_Excellent, you learn quickly at least. Now just focus your mind on the cloud and it should happen._

He gazed up at the rolling the dark grey clouds staring intently into it; they filled his sight, reflecting coldly in his eyes and in an instant a tingling sensation exploded over his skin. He felt when they were disappeared and a sense of weightlessness permeated wherever he was. He opened his eyes, looking around at the dull grey, featureless landscape. Every once in awhile as he peered something would move in the grey but it was too indistinct to glean anything.

_Retain contact with the girl at all times or she will be taken by other creatures of shadow._

His grip tightened on her and the weapons. A rectangular pane of darker grey materialized in front of him when he brought the scene and he thrust through it dragging his cargo with him. It stretched over the front of his body before giving way and he tumbled back into the material world, falling a few feet to the soft grass by the pond.

Harry looked up; a massive forest stood before him, pool stretching across the face of it. The trees came forward, stopping halfway from the closest edge of the pool, around fifty feet protruded from the tree line. Plants glowed with a beautiful array of bright colors while they swayed under the surface of clear blue water.

A snow white mist slithered through the trees and crawled across the water. A large group of people stepped forward from the trees, all tall, slim and elegant. One man was ahead of the group, taller than the rest and very dignified.

"Welcome to your new home Harry Potter." He said stretching out his arms invitingly.

"Déjà vu . . ." he managed to mumble before passing out.

* * *

_**Info:**_ so obviously Harry won't be your typical Vampire or other dark creature; he actually isn't even a dark creature. You can try to guess but next chapter will explain most of it as soon as I figure out a name for the race (suggestions welcome).

For Vernon's behaviour I am writing it based on he is an alcoholic, has an huge temper and is frustrated with Harry. He was a young man just starting at Grunnings Drill when harry appeared on his doorstep; with a wife, new house, and baby boy, he didn't want another burden but it came in the form of Harry. Vernon became a vindictive man plagued with the expenses of a house, a wife who wanted everything perfect and two infant children so he turned to alcohol to cope. This only made his temper worse and since he loved his wife and his baby he took it out on the only other living thing in the house his ire pushed more by the fact the boy was a freak.

I wanted to incorporate shadow magic at first but then I realized everyone does that so I went with something a little different; the Abyss. More will be explained later but for example purposes the Veil is a gateway to the Abyss.

_**A/N:**_ _I will try to keep chapters above 4k in length but there may eventually be shorter ones for important events that require the briefness to emphasize importance._

_Another chapter. Updates won't always be so soon, especially with school now. Hope you readers enjoy it and please review._


	3. Part I: Chapter 3

_**Blood Lines**_

_**Part I**_

_**Chapter 3**_

* * *

Elven Forest, United Kingdom

Unknown time-June 27, 1987

His eyes snapped open and he sucked in a sharp breath his head pounding dully. Harry's eyes felt dry itchy and full of something that irritated them. The inside of the boy's mouth was coated in a thick carpet making it difficult for him to breath. All over his body muscles ached even though he only lay still trying to figure out what exactly had occurred.

Harry shifted very slightly on the soft bed he lay on. Then it hit him; not once in his short miserable existence that he cared to call a life had he ever had the luxury of a soft comfortable bed since his parents' untimely death. It confused him for he knew of no one that would allow him such a thing not that he would complain very vehemently.

Images and fragments of himself changing into something beyond the realm of reality for any human being surfaced when he tried to recall what happened. The inhuman creature that he became mercilessly slaughtered and destroyed the lives of multiple men all exuding a feeling of death and hatred. Images of himself covered in blood and tearing apart other people burned in his mind.

Swinging himself he draped his legs over the edge of the bed noticing he dressed in nothing more than a simple set of soft cloth trousers. He didn't fail to see that his pale skin no longer hung from his bones but was stretched tightly over hard dense cords of muscle. A light ache trembled throughout his new gains of flesh while the pounding in his head increased.

His perceptions had been enhanced and changed along with his body. Each thread making up the light sheets on the bed could be felt and individually counted by his touch alone. His eyes now without the glasses he had worn for so long picked up miniscule details that Harry would have thought impossible to see even with perfect vision. His nose picked up every tiny scent and he could taste the most subtle tones on the air.

Some things remained the same about him though. His scars from the years of abuse he had endured were bright and gruesome as ever. He was the same size as before in the sense of height but mentally he viewed things with the mind of an experienced worldly adult.

"You're awake then. Good, good it was time you joined us for training and preparation." A voice smooth and musical reached his ears from the only doorway in the room.

Harry's head shot up immediately he was on guard. A man leaned against the portal's frame casually garbed in more simple silk trousers and shirt. A large bow of pale white wood was slung easily from his broad powerful shoulders. The man was tall with long silvery hair framing an angular face. Harry couldn't help think that the man before him was beautiful with an ageless quality.

Harry also examined the chamber he was in. The bed was large and soft, the only piece of furniture besides a simple dresser and a table. It was very Spartan in design with no decor or clutter and drab earthy tones.

"Relax young one. You are in no danger here."

"Where is here? What happened to me? My head it's . . ."

"You're in the Elven Realm, a sanctuary for you. Now before you ask too many questions what do you remember from four days ago?"

"Four days!"

"Yes, it's been four days since you arrived here with Sylmae. Come let us walk, it will help." The man motioned to him before straightening and leaving.

Outside Harry nearly fell over due to a dizzy spell. He was completely unprepared for the towering height at which the shelter he had been in was suspended at. Maybe a hundred feet above the forest floor, in a cluster of tall trees, multiple buildings in the same style as the one Harry had just left were hanging among the trees. Thin walkways maybe as wide as the dinner plate he had broken those years ago connected the buildings.

"Don't worry you'll get used to it," The man stepped out onto the walkway and continued along it as if he was on a wide road, "Come on, you'll be fine."

Harry had hesitated when the Elf continued walking on the thin bridge but at his words Harry put on a brave face and walked out onto the tedious strip of strange material. It was easier than he thought it would be, to follow the mysterious man. The staggering height seemed like nothing and balancing was easy.

"Good boy."

They walked slowly, traversing over several more thin bridges. Harry gazed in wonder at the city; for that was what it was, a city among the trees, perfectly in tune with nature. He had never been anywhere so peaceful, calming or with people so quiet and happy looking. Adults talked animatedly in a strange language and children frolicked, laughing

"What's your name anyways? Why do you keep asking what I remember? What is going on here?"

"Stubborn. That's good, You'll need it for your training. Now come on sit down, it's time you heard a little story, a history of sorts, it will explain much."

The two had come to a particularly large, wide branch. Several simple chairs and a round table rested on its smooth surface. A tall smooth a glittering light blue stone container with a flared edge, sat on the table accompanied by two handless cups of the same material. A second similar container stood next to the first, this one a dark grey.

The man sat in one of the chairs and gestured for Harry to do the same, "A drink perhaps, before we begin," He poured one cup of bright red liquid from the grey container and pushed it to Harry.

Harry gazed into the rather thick liquid. A cloying sweet salt scent that he recognized drifted into his nostrils. Harry pushed the cup away abruptly and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at the man, "No . . . I won't drink that."

The elf paused while pouring his own cup of clear liquid, "Why not? It is nothing you haven't had before; in fact this is better for you; it's some of my kind's blood."

"It's not natural. Not normal, I can't."

"You have before though; four days ago, don't you recall it all?"

"No . . . Yes . . . Maybe . . . All I see are pictures, fragments . . . God what happened?" Harry's hands went to his head and blinked hard.

"Drink it Harry. It will help with the headache, the thirst, your memory."

Hesitantly Harry grasped the cup and with a shaking hand brought it to his lips. Grimacing he tip the blood into his mouth tensed ready to spit it out. He was pleasantly surprised when he found he actually enjoyed the coppery flavour. He was even happier when the blood relieved the pounding in his head and the burning soreness in his throat he had ignored was cooled.

"There see it wasn't that bad." Harry looked at the Elf and nodded once. The Elf refilled his cup and continued, "This story is not so much a story as a history; a history of your race, my race, the humans, Vampires and several others. Do you believe in the gods Harry Potter?"

". . . No."

"That is wise for while there are no gods that take power from prayers or will even consider helping mortals, all mortals as for them even ten thousand years is nothing but a moment, many powerful beings that transcend our comprehension do exist.

For millions of years two of the lesser, Higher Powers have battled back and forth between them. These two powers were what the humans would see as Angels and Demons. Sixty millennia ago when modern humans were born the powers contended for mates.

Demons rampaged and raped the women of the human race, keeping those who became pregnant captive until their children tore their way through the mothers' bodies. These Demons were mono-gendered, being only males, and so competition between them was intense with many civil wars. Thousands of human females were killed.

The Angels were as well mono-gendered females and used powers of seduction and persuasion to coerce male humans into mating after which their minds were wiped and they were set free. Angels had a large population because of this peace but weren't skilled in the ways of war.

This lasted for a thousand years, both sides ignoring each other until a war broke out between them over their practises. The Demons were angry that the Angels were so peaceful and, according to them, weak while the Angels were upset about the rape, torture and murders of the women.

Such a conflict had never been seen on this planet before. It was the first time that Demons were unified enough to halt in their own internal wars and work together to fight the Angels. As for the 'light' side, for them it was the first and only time they would willing take lives.

The war lasted centuries, thousands even millions dying throughout all of the intelligent races on Earth. The Demon race had few soldiers because of their wars so they created a new race; the Vampires, by cursing humans with immortality, strength, speed, enhanced senses, an aversion to the magic of the sun and silver as well as a need for blood. The action of the Demons put much strain on the Angels and to solve that problem they created the Elves to fight the Vampires.

The armies of the Demons and Angels were organised much the same as the armies of today's human forces and two privates; one from the Demons and one from the Angels were rivals. From the beginning of the war to the very end they were battled each other, both rising through the ranks to commandant generals.

As would be expected of two such great rivals they began to respect each other. Slowly this respect deepened to admiration before it came to an abrupt end with the war. The reason for this end was the two had met in secret and they conceived; the only account in history where the mate of a Demon lived passed the pregnancy and birthing.

That respect and admiration dissolved when a child came into the picture; both the mother and the father wanted the child for their own. This child was a melding of the species that created something so much more than anything on Earth. A new race, the combination of the two most powerful creatures on the planet, became the focus of the war.

In the final conflict between both sides the child was stolen away from Angels, who were keeping it, by one more powerful than both. The two sides fought to a stalemate until the only the parents remained; they faced each other down surrounded by thousands of fallen.

Their fight was interrupted by the being that had taken the child. This being was what would be considered a god. The being held the parents at the edge of their lives and forced them to look at the horror they had created with a pointless war by invading their minds. When the Demon had gained some humanity and the Angel had remembered the old times of peace, the being ripped their soles from their bodies and placed them within the baby's body along its own.

The god aged the child far enough for it to be mature and gave him his purpose. The child imbued with the knowledge and wisdom of the thousands of years of his parents, their conscious existing within his mind, was told that it was his responsibility to escort the souls of the dead to the afterlife. This would ensure that they did not suffer the endless darkness of the Abyss.

The populations of the humans and Elves were low and pushed even further by the predatory nature of the Vampires; the fighting was ended for repopulation purposes. The Bloods, as Vampires became known, rebuilt their numbers as well when they discovered that when they didn't kill new Bloods would come from their victims. As such the First of your race had little to do with the millions dead from the wars unable to move past the Abyss.

Whenever battle broke out by interracial fighting the First was there to stop it. With no name to begin with and the fear that he had instilled in all of the races your race remained without a name. No real name was ever created for fear of the attention it would attract, so titles such as the First and the Hybrid were used and still are.

After many thousands of years the First ended his own life. It was a tragic end for such an important figure; he was driven mad by the bickering and arguing between his own parents. His mother, the angel had retained the lessons taught to her by the god but his father was like most other Demons and didn't retain the lesson that was supposed to be burned into his mind. To have such powerful souls contained within a single body, each with an individual conscious tore the First's mind from sanity.

Over the millennia since the First's suicide there have been many more with the combination of Angel and Demon blood flowing in their veins but only a few fully realized ones. You are one such, the only to have significant Hybrid magic in over two thousand years in fact.

You have many gifts. At such a young age, to teach yourself Occlumency, even rudimentary Occlumency is amazing. It is even more incredible that you managed to make two full transformations in as many hours and still maintain some control; it has never been done before.

These gifts, your astounding potential will make you a very powerful creature. For any of it to be effective though you must submit to a strict training regime. It will be hard, painful and it will require you to face treatment much like what you faced for years at the Dursley's. You will make it, though, you very well may end up the best since the First.

The boy stared at the person across from him, sipped his own drink and answered, "Wait a minute. You're saying that I am some kind of weird Demon/Angel hybrid whose duty is transport the souls of the dead through the Abyss to some kind of afterlife?"

He sighed, "Yes, that's about it. It is a lot of information to take in and if you have any questions ask."

"What do they look like?"

The elf pulled out a long thin stick of brilliant wood with a swirling grain and waved it in a complex pattern, "Here," he said handing a large stone tablet to Harry.

Harry took it, his new strength making it seem feather light, and gazed at the image inscribed upon it. The detail in it was incredible. It showed two creatures standing tall and proud side by side. The one on the left was tall, at least seven feet tall, naked body covered in bright glittering black leather skin stretched over monstrous muscles. Long fingers ending in vicious curved claws rested at his sides and large boney wings were visible over the peaks of his shoulders. The face was sharp and predatory ivory white fangs protruded from an evil grin with black and red eyes. The one the right was slim and elegant, dressed in a blindingly white gown. Her face too was sharp with an angled jaw and slim light lips. She had no fangs or bulky muscle only pale porcelain skin and white feathered wings, blue eyes glowing.

"The mother and father, leaders of the Demon and Angel nations, last of their kind. And this is their son fully grown."

Another tablet was handed to Harry this one with only a single figure on it. He was tall, like his parents, pale skin rippling over defined compact muscles. Fangs stuck out past his bottom lip and his eyes glowed deep brown through long shocks of black hair. The wings on his back were feathered but they were a black-grey color. This creature looked powerful and godlike.

"It is a good likeness to you now. You are not the Harry Potter you used to be."

"What?"

"Here take a look," another wave of the stick and a flat panel of burnished silver appeared.

"How do you that?" Harry asked with his head cocked to the side.

The elf smirked, "Magic!"

Harry raised an eyebrow and looked into the panel. His face had changed and rather noticeably. He had always been thin and bony and not just around his head but his whole body. His bones of his face were better defined under cords of muscle. It had become more angled and pointed, his bright green eyes framed in the sockets.

"Why?"

"You have to be more specific than that."

"Why me? Why is it me of all people? I am nothing, an abused little kid who lives in a cupboard."

"That's true. But you are so much more than that outside of that world. You became a Hybrid because the magic of the being that created them chose you. Your history may have contributed to it as well; the magic that your mother used before she died possibly did something to the magic within your body to attract the magic of your race earlier than the blood in your veins intended."

"My mother . . . What do you know about my parents?"

"The whole wizarding world of Europe knows about your parents, Harry, they are more famous than Albus Dumbledore or Nicholas Flamel. What were you told about them?"

"Nothing. My dad was a drunk who didn't work and my mother was lazy and spoilt. They died in a car crash because my dad drank; I was in the back seat, the only survivor. It's how I got my scar."

"Lies, Harry, all lies. Your parents were two of the greatest wizards of this age. Your father was the top Auror in the Ministry of Magic and your mother took care of you and created her own spells. You were their pride and joy and they loved you more than anything. But you know this; the Occlumency you have being performing has allowed you to see the memories of it.

What you don't know is the real reason they died. Your parents were the number one light wizards who opposed a dark, dark wizard called You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. His chosen name is Lord Voldemort, his original Tom Marvolo Riddle.

He went to your parents' house in the night, the secret location had been revealed to him, and went in. Your father fought him but didn't last long and was killed after a short torture. Your mother had run upstairs to defend you. His target was you but your mother begged for your life, offering her own instead but the Dark Lord refused.

He killed her and went to you. Only a child he must have thought there was no chance for you to survive but yet you did. Against all odds you survived the Avada Kedavra curse, the only curse known to man or Elf that is kills with impunity while at the same time is impossible to block. The curse in fact rebounded off of you and hit Voldemort killing him."

"They died to protect me. Why did I survive this curse?"

"Dumbledore has a theory that love saved you and in part he is right. What really saved you was your mother's soul; you see the Avada Kedavra doesn't kill; it in fact rips the soul from the body of the victim of the curse. When your mother died the curse didn't push her soul into the abyss as it usually does, it only removed it from her body. The power of her love for you allowed it to remain long enough to enter your body and take the curse instead of your soul."

"If the curse rips the soul from the body how did it rebound then? And who is Dumbledore, it's twice you mentioned him now?"

"The Killing Curse rebounded because once it takes the soul from the body it lingers for a moment. With your body a soul still existed, one with enough magical strength to push the curse back upon its caster. The presence of so much soul magic activity may have attracted the magic that is now inside you; never before in over fifty three thousand years has there been one descended from the First who manifested their magic so early in their lives. The last one was seventeen when he came into it.

Dumbledore is a wizard. A great human wizard and he was at one point the 'leader of light,' he is still considered by many to be that leader. Currently he is the Headmaster at Hogwarts, a school for young witches and wizards, and has many other titles. Your parents trusted him implicitly with good reason but with you, he has made many mistakes that nearly cost you your life. He is the reason you went to stay with your relatives when you died instead in accordance with your parents' will."

"My parents had a will? I have an inheritance?"

"Yes, you do. It is rather substantial at that too and with the other bloodlines in you; you will be a very rich man."

"So this is all from magic; the weird things happening around me, my change, my parents, all of it. What happens to me? What if I don't want this or any of it?"

"I am afraid you have no choice in the matter Harry, you aren't human; the magic in you can't be trapped forever. If you leave the Bloods will hunt you, Vampires, they will stalk you, hunt you down trying to kill you. Most of them forget that now you are the hunter, you are the thing that stalks the night and the day that they should be afraid of. And those who die by means other than soul magic must be ferried through the Abyss; they need protection from the creatures there. If you don't provide it; it is likely they will fall to the dark and never reach the Beyond.

You don't have to stay here, though. You may set off on your own and try to survive it all. Without training, you won't last long no matter your power and the Demon in your mind will continue to fight for control. If you stay we offer shelter, training, a supply of willingly given blood; the means for you to survive outside this place. You will learn your history and the history of the magical world that, outside of the Elves, doesn't exist.

This offer is one you can't refuse. No one can survive in the Magical World completely alone, not anymore. You may have forced Voldemort down but he is one who will always rise again and as long that will happen there will always be danger to everyone. You must become the grey light that guides the people through the darkness.

We can teach you to be what it is necessary for you to become. Your life will never be what you want it to be; your parents are gone, although we did guide them through the Abyss, you aren't human and will be hunted your whole life, the war of the Elves and the Bloods has increased in activity, the human darkness is returning and you are the center of it all. You have no options if you want others and even yourself to have the have peace that you never received."

Harry could only look at the Elf. He didn't even know the man's name and yet he was given more insight into his strange life than anything he had ever experienced. Souls . . . they were the voices, they even had the names. His mother had given up her soul to save him from the same fate and such a pure act of love had forced him into a place where he was despised and shunned, such grim irony.

"I'll leave you now. Think it over carefully, it is a big decision, one that will direct the course of your life. You may sleep in the building you awoke in, keep the bottle with you if you get a craving. Goodnight, Harry Potter." The Elf got up and walked away along the thin bridges, soon disappearing among the thickly needled branches of the huge tree bound city.

Bright vibrant green eyes peered into his cup of blood. The small amount of liquid left shone in the eerie forest light. _This is who I am now._ He drained the remainder and got up grabbing the bottle loosely in his hand and slipped back across the bridges to his little hut with the bed.


	4. Part I: Chapter 4

_**Blood Lines**_

_**Part I**_

_**Chapter 4**_

* * *

Elven Forest, United Kingdom

5am-July 28, 1987

The pale light of the sun crept across his still body. His legs dangled from the smooth roof of his hut, the wood fused together in a way that was impossible for regular humans to do. The forest floor, coated in a soft carpet of mosses and grass, lay one hundred feet below him. Harry flexed his hands, a peculiar itching curling around the tips. He glanced and stared in wonder as his finger nails turned black and lengthened then his flesh hardened moulded to meet the nails forming weapons as claws. Their keen edges carried a wicked look and Harry knew few materials would stand against them.

A mildly familiar sound reached his enhanced ears; the crisp noise of blades clashing. Harry pushed off the gracefully angled roof and plummeted down, his streamline body slipping through the air silently. The gnarled bark of the thick tree trunk whipped past him and only a few dozen feet from ground his fingers sunk into the bark and dragged five even lines through it. His momentum ebbed away until Harry landed on the green terrain noiselessly, his toughened body absorbing the still considerable impact easily.

He followed his ears. The trees of the forest grew far apart, allowing for the branches to grow long and thick. The undergrowth was sparse around the Elven tree city, they kept careful control of it, leaving only the largest pieces of fallen wood, but farther away between the trees thicker brush could be seen growing in abundance. Scents of the forest were thick in the air; pine needles, leaves, trees, crisp fresh air, the moist scent of rotten wood, even cook fires as the Elves prepared their morning meal.

Harry wove his way through the trees, tracking the noise of the single combat through the forest. After a few minutes Harry came upon a small intimate clearing and within it two Elves, a male and a female, dancing back and forth, bright curved silver blades flashing in the rising sun. The speed and grace with which they duelled was exactly as one would expect from the Fair Folk.

Harry recognized the man of the two as the Elf who had greeted him; his name was still unknown to him. The exertion and effort of the duel was clearly etched onto the Elf's face. His counterpart however, her face smooth and serene, a lustrous smile gracing her elegant lips. Her movements were easy and effortless; a relaxing walk through the trees would have looked more taxing. Both were garbed in close fitting streamline clothing.

The woman darted forward and with a complex twist of her blade she sent the man's flipping end over end high in to air. The man was taken to his knees with head up and off to a side, the glittering edge of his opponent's blade pressing against the underside of his jaw. The woman said something in a strange language with a laugh and helped the man stand.

* * *

Hogwarts Grounds, Scotland

6am-July 28, 1987

An old man folded his hands behind his back and gazed out across the Black Lake, the glittering lights of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry lighting up the landscape behind him. A light breeze disturbed the lush grass and the long silver-white beard that cascaded down his chest and the matching hair at his back.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was a troubled man. It had been seven years since Tom Riddle had vanished after a failed spell cast upon one Harry James Potter destroyed his physical body. Even so Dumbledore knew his former student would return with a vengeance terrible and fierce and that once he did the war would begin anew. As for the boy, he had done what he had to and left the three month old baby with his relatives, in another four years time he would send someone a to fetch the boy.

There had been a disturbance recently in the powerful and complex wards he had established over No. 4 Privet Drive though, it wasn't large as of yet but they seemed to be weakening slowly. Dumbledore didn't know what to make of it quite yet; any number of explanations could be thought up for why it was happening. It wasn't an issue to fret over yet.

The sun rose over the far side of the lake bathing the brilliant blue water of the Black Lake in pink and golden rays. The ancient man smiled, the simple beauty of the place he had called home for over fifty years cheering him even in the darkness. He turned and wandered back up the gentle slope of the grass and into the halls and corridors of his school, a merry light in his blue eyes and a smile on his lips.

* * *

Elven Forest, United Kingdom

5am-July 28, 1987

"Ah Rothilion it's been a long time since we sparred," A tall, slim Elf woman said with a serene laugh, in the melodious language of her race.

"It was an honour Ekara-Eleniel. We spent many years training together; it is a pleasure to revisit that time." Rothilion replied, his broad bare shoulders shining with the sweat of the duel.

"The time for games is over Rothilion," Eleniel's voice hardened slightly, "What do you want?"

Rothilion sighed, "You always could see through me Ekara-Eleniel. I need you to train―"

"Do you not remember my oath! I will not! That traitor wasted the gifts I gave him and I refuse to let another have the chance to do the same!" The Elf woman snarled, her face taking on a feral tone.

"I remember your oath well, I was among the last you taught and you know this. But you must train this boy."

"I must do nothing! Do not presume to tell me anything Rothilion, I have lived far longer than any of our race and have seen things you would not imagine. Is this to do with the child that arrived with your daughter? A fool you were, Sylmae was not prepared for such a mission." The aged Elf's voice took on a softer feel.

"I freely admit that we defer to you in all matters Ekara-Eleniel, your experience and wisdom is what makes you an Eldar, I also admit that mine daughter was not prepared for this test. It is the child you must train my old friend for I was correct. He is one of them!"

"What would you have me do, friend? My vow, my oath, it will not allow me to give another the tools needed to take lives. The last instance where I trained one of the Elves you brought before me ended with the greatest tragedy to strike our race in millennia. The risk of it happening again is not something I will take! My shame is great and it would be made all the greater if another student of mine turned."

"Eleniel! This boy isn't an Elf, he isn't a Human or a Blood; the boy is a Hybrid! If you teach him he will be your greatest accomplishment: he will not turn against us so your fears are ungrounded. Your shame will be erased by him."

The old Elf woman sighed, her grey eyes heavy with thought, "Fine, let the boy come forward then," she switched to the local language of humans, "It does not do well for him to hide in the trees like a frightened rabbit."

* * *

She had switched to English. The conversation had been short but intense, the female had snarled like animal while the male pleaded with her. All the while Harry had watched from the shadows of the trees quietly, a wraith. The woman had known he was there though, as well as the man, he could see it in their bearing and now he was being called out.

Slowly Harry stepped forward into the new sunlight, clawed hands clenched at his sides. He watched them, emerald eyes glowing in the light and in turn they regarded him; one with warm hope and the other with cool suspicion.

"Come on boy, you are wasting precious time," She was harsh and unforgiving, like the past weighed heavily upon her. Something more was said to the man but she had switched back into the strange language.

The man replied, "Yes, he has. Close to a dozen Bloods tracked him and Sylmae down in a small pocket of forest outside the human capital. He took them all with the weapons that were Sylmae's kit, primarily a dagger."

"Curse you for forcing me into this harsh, primitive language," She said in English, "Let's see your hands boy. If I am to teach you the ways of combat then I want to see what you are suited for."

Harry reached the two Elves and reluctantly held his hands out, knuckles facing upwards.

She slapped his hands, "Palms up! And get rid of those." With speed she snatched a hold of Harry's wrists and twisted them with a sharp motion. The claws remoulded into his regular fingers and she hummed and hawed, trailing her own hands over his hands. "Daggers you say? Yes, I can see why; though he is unusually well formed, he will be skilled with many weapons."

Harry glanced over at the man who had greeted him the day before. He found no answers there as the Elf only inclined his head toward the other of his kind. Harry turned his attention back to the Elf woman who had now dropped his hands.

"Come back in hour I will be ready to begin your instruction then. And you, Rothilion, get someone to teach him something other than English." She vanished into the green vibrant forest.

* * *

Elven Forest, United Kingdom

12am-August 1, 1987

He hadn't slept much in the four days he had been living among the Elves. The time had passed slowly, creeping forward at an agonizing pace. It didn't help that the speed he possessed made everything slower, nor did his apparently elongated life. He had been told that his body did not require sleep though if he wanted it he could take it, so he hadn't. The time he had was consumed with relentless training, day and night.

The day after Harry had arrived what the next few years were going to be like for him was immediately explained. His powers and abilities were told to him and what his training would entail was told to him; no filter or censor obscuring it. It had been Ekara-Eleniel who told him. It had been his first conversation with her.

* * *

Harry stood in the same clearing he had been in an hour before. The man, whose name he had learned was Rothilion, offered him no information other than the Elf woman Eleniel would be teaching him all the skills necessary for him to survive in a war. Others would handle his education in languages, history, and other such things.

He had been given proper clothes; a pair of tighter fitting pants made from a silk-like material and a long sleeved shirt of similar cloth both of which were earthy tones of brown and grey. He had found them in his hut along with a note that said these and several more pieces of clothing had been crafted for him by the finest weavers that the city had. They fit perfectly and were the first real new clothes that he had ever received.

Something disturbed the air. Harry twisted to the side and his arm snapped up quick as lightning. His hand closed around the leather wrapped hilt of a dagger. He managed to look at it for second realizing that it was the very same dagger that he had drawn blood with not days earlier, the blade had been cleaned and polished returning the bright sheen that it had possessed before.

"Good, at least your reflexes are reasonable," His teacher said walking from the shadows of the ever present trees.

He stood silent and impassive. Harry gazed at the Elf woman with cold eyes; he felt no compassion or care for these Elves, they would give him his tools and then he would leave. The only thing he wanted now was the murderer that had taken his parents from the world; he wanted the monster to suffer his crimes. He had no fear of the Demon and would use its power to accomplish what he wanted.

"So boy, do you think you are ready? Speak up, I will not suffer a fool."

"I will do whatever it takes ma'am," Harry's voice was soft and cold, a chill breeze.

"None of this nonsense, you will address me as Ekara, the Elfish word for master, or Ekara-Eleniel. You will hate me boy but I will give you things that you thought were impossible."

"Yes, Ekara-Eleniel."

"Good."

They lapsed into silence. His master took a seated position and stared straight ahead into space. Harry followed suit and waited. Ten minutes passed, a half-hour, and hour. Harry began to measure the passage of time by the angle of the sunlight streaming into the clearing through the trees. Instinct told him that several hours had passed before finally she spoke.

"One less thing that I have to teach you then, maybe this isn't hopeless. Rothilion has said you have a semblance of barriers around your mind, I am going to test them. The Vampires will attack with their mind as well as their bodies and you must be prepared to fend off all attacks."

Harry could only nod. He had no real idea what she was talking about, he cleared his mind as best he could knowing somehow that it would improve the 'barriers' that apparently guarded his mind. Ekara-Eleniel closed her steely grey eyes and Harry felt a strange presence touch his thoughts.

The conscience was vast and liquid. Mysterious notes of lamenting music waved through it and half forgotten memories flitted by. A myriad of strange colors swirled and mixed among themselves with mostly sombre tones controlling fluid mind.

A tendril of the conscious floated through the thin film surrounding the ocean and sky in his mind. For a few seconds it hovered above the sea then his mind converged upon the invading elf. The ocean welled higher, the clouds darkened, lightning struck out against the other mind and the waves began to thrash dangerously. Immediately the elf retreated back beyond the influence of Harry's conscious, flying through the film containing it and to the relative safety of the wider forest and world.

"That's effective enough. I haven't seen anything like that before, your core is protecting your memories and mind. Interesting."

Harry finally asked the question that had been gnawing at him for days, since he had arrived, "Can you explain all of this? Magic, Elves, Vampires, whatever I am, a war; what is going on?"

"So many questions. The races are just that; races, like humans we are on Earth. We all have different traits and attributes. Our behaviours are varied, our beliefs different.

Magic is arcane energy that can be manipulated by sentient races. Elves all can manipulate magic, the Angels as we and the humans know them gave us that ability, and it has surfaced in a small number humans. Certain creatures, non-magical and magical can do things with the energy as well. It is present in nature and in crafted into objects such as the blade in your hand. Magic is only an energy, much like heat

Humans are fools, they believe language, Latin specifically, and their wands made from wood and parts of magical creatures affect the power of their spells as they call them. Language is only a guide to state intention, when someone says a spell they think about what they want to happen whether they know it or not. A wand concentrates a spell and multiplies its power as it leaves the body of the caster; much like a magnifying glass would the light from the Sun. Few humans can but wand-less and silent magic is very possible, though without a wand one has to have the power to make the spell effective.

Magic is not without its limits. One cannot raise a person who has passed from the living with it, for example, in the Abyss conventional magic used by most has no bearing though corpses can be animated. Immortality in short-lived races cannot be attained through magic, not true immortality at least. Every caster has a core within their minds made up of magic potential, the bigger the potential the more power can be put into a spell and more spells can be casted or maintained for longer. Humans have the made the mistake of thinking the core is the total amount of magical energy inside a person, but magic exists in the world around us not exclusively inside our bodies."

"Will I be learning magic then? My parents were able to use it."

"Yes you will learn magic, Bloods use magic often in their battle against us and the Elves have many things to teach you to combat them. However you will have to wait to learn it and your wand will come from the human crafters not ours. We make our own wands and it's a very difficult and enlightening thing to do. Making a wand with our methods reveals to the person the very deepest and innermost things about themselves."

"Who will teach me? What will I learn?"

"Enough about magic, you are not ready for such things yet. An instructor will be chosen once you are ready. Your training now will consist of how to survive in the world; tracking, finding food, stealth, we will increase your natural balance, speed, agility and grace, you will be taught how to control your passive abilities, we will perfect the tools you were given and teach you how to be an efficient warrior. You will learn the weaknesses of warring races, their vulnerable spots and how to kill. Other skills will be thrown in as well but they are not as important."

"And what are my 'abilities' then?" Harry's voice was quiet and collect, betraying no emotion.

"The first battle you were in you won but it was sloppy; the Vampires gained the upper hand, which is unacceptable. Your abilities will give you advantages that are beyond even the Elves. You are faster and stronger than any humanoid creature in this dimension, your instincts are impeccable but they will only guide you so far. You will receive training for grace and balance but what comes to naturally is beyond the Elves or Bloods, we can only give you advice and clues for it. Like us Elves you will live eternally unless taken from the world by your hand or that of others.

Hybrids, you in other words for there are no others alive, have three major gifts. They are the Fear, the Allure and Abyssal Magic, two of which other races have as well; Veela have the Allure and Vampires have the Fear while no other creature has Abyssal Magic except those who exist in that dimension. The Fear has its uses in making enemies and sometimes prey in your case freeze in terror or runaway; the Allure can be used for persuasion but is originally meant for mating purposes or as a defence. Learning to control the Fear and Allure is just a matter of practice and we will provide volunteers for you."

"What about the Abyssal Magic?"

"You will not learn that from us. It is very dangerous and more than one past Hybrid has been lost in its depths, creatures in that dimension rival even your power. You are forbidden from practising such a dangerous art or even trying to travel with it. The risks are too much and the world cannot afford to lose you."

Anger erupted from within Harry and his eyes flashed brilliant green, opening wide. How dare they presume to forbid anything from him! He needed every skill and tool he could use against Voldemort and those who destroyed his life. The demon roared in his head and crashed against his prison. He gritted his teeth and forced his eyes shut, the light shone through his eyelids for a second then faded slowly.

"Ah you have met the Demon and the Angel I see. Yet another thing we do not have to worry about."

"I-I don't know if I can control him though, he always fights against me. Every second is a struggle in my head."

"Yes it is the reason several of the Hybrids went insane. Do not worry, both of the voices will quiet eventually, give it a few years. If you do not make a complete transformation into your true form then it will go much quicker. Keep control, it is difficult but possible."

"Very well Ekara."

"Good. Now let us begin with weapons, remember there is no turning back now."

He let a deep breath escape from his nose. Then got up and followed Eleniel.

* * *

And here he was now. After they had left the clearing he and Eleniel had walked along the forest floor. Elves had moved down from their abodes hanging hundreds of feet high in the ancient trees, many passed them by.

Harry still wasn't certain of the structure of Elven communities; it wasn't what he had expected though. It looked as if there was a king who governed the inhabitants of his realm but he deferred to the oldest and most experienced Elves, 'Eldars.' Groups went out and hunted animals for meat, eliminating the belief that Elves refused to partake of flesh, while others ran shops, perfected their arts, researched, experimented and lived however they pleased. There was no currency but goods were traded for information, skills or favours. They travelled far as well, searching for what held their fancy and often visited other Elven settlements hidden around the world, though there was only one in Britain.

They had walked until they reached a particularly large tree; branches started ten feet above the ground and spiralled upwards around in an unnatural way making stairs. A thick heavy mat of vibrant green moss covered an arch way in the tree. Harry was lead through this archway and into the bowels of the tree. The chamber within was large and circular lit dimly with flameless red lights. While the outside was wet and a comfortable temperature for summer inside the tree was dry and cool. A heavy dark sheet was draped over the curved wall.

Eleniel grabbed hold of a thin cord and yanked it once sharply. The drape flew back smoothly revealing row upon row of polished silver weapons. They sat bathed in crimson light on racks that rose up twenty or more feet. The variety of weapons had astounded him and he could only just stand there staring at it all. Everything hung on that wall; tiny stiletto daggers to full halberds and every possible melee weapon in between. Short swords, long swords, scimitars, daggers, falchions, spears, maces, and all other imaginable bladed and non-bladed weapons polished to perfection. Just looking at them Harry saw the handmade brilliance present.

Eleniel had gestured at him to pick something then left mentioning it would probably take awhile. She had been right of course, Harry had spent an hour grabbing things of the racks and holding them; testing their weights and grips until her had found a pair of daggers. They were clones of the one he had first killed with; blades with a long deadly curve like the claw of a grizzly bear. They were heavier, and the blade was slightly thicker but with his new strength it didn't make a difference in the least.

He had exited the circular chamber and found his master awaiting him. The sun had risen fully into the early morning sky by then, a bright yellow ball he found no difficulty looking directly into. Much of the light; however was blocked by the thick canopy of tree foliage overhead and the forest was given a sombre peaceful atmosphere.

"Your weapon will never fail you, as it is of Elven make. Maybe in a few months you will learn our ways of forging the blades so they can inflict the most damage to the Bloods," Ekara-Eleniel had said.

Harry shook his head, clearing his mind of the memories that followed him. Four days, and he was now running night training. The forest was dark and rather foreboding; deep black-grey shadows that would have clouded every detail disappeared in vision with his eyes gleaning through them, a light cool breeze rustled the branches. A moonless night made things more interesting

With his focus fully on the task at hand Harry strained his ears. His current training was detecting targets that were supposed to be stealthy. The breeze added more difficulty in that it obscured most other light noises but fortunately Hybrid ears were beyond it. Rustling of the branches, no more than air movement, then a soft scrape and Harry twisted around and struck a young Elf in between the eyes with his blunted silver weapon. The pommel of the dagger thudded dully and the Elf collapsed, Harry's hand catching hold of him before he slipped from the tree's limbs.

He left the adolescent male slung on a thick branch and dropped twenty feet to a new perch, four arrows cutting into the bark as he slid past. All participants in the night's training were dressed in form fitting black combat clothing as it was referred as. Harry had learned that it was woven of the silk from acromantula; a giant magical arachnid the more ancient of which were possessed of high intelligence, the slick material was strong and durable so perfect for training.

Harry forced the magic in his blood down as he had been taught; his first time taking part in night training had been fouled by his brightly glowing green eyes. Doing this did not impede his night vision at all but it made him nigh invisible in the black; a privilege most Elves did not have, their silver hair preventing it.

More projectiles whizzed towards him and struck the place he had occupied a fraction of a second before. Harry grinned, elongated canines jutting down over his bottom lip; he had become a prime target in all operations, the young Elves, his fellows in training trying to prove themselves against a Hybrid. Five slim blades flew from him and five yelps or groans returned followed by cursing. So far none had beaten him in anything.

Harry raced along the wooden length of his landing spot, leaping silently to another. There was one opponent left; Eleniel and two other masters observing the match with practised ease. Something disturbed the leafy spot above him, a black shape dropped into his path and a silver blade rested its edge on his sternum.

He ducked and twisted deftly, catching the arm holding the weapon and spinning past it. His own weapon came to bear and he held it in a reverse grip against the final opponent, arms pinning his assailant's. The emerald eyed boy let out a breath and grinned, he had her.

"Not quite, Potter." A feminine voice uttered.

Harry frowned then noticed a small pain and a sticky wet growing at the edge of his last rib. He glanced down and sighed; defeated. The Elf girl had gotten him with an arrow tucked into her sleeve. It looked like she had moved it into her grip and stuck about two inches into him, enough force behind her sneaky attack to pierce even his durable skin. He left go of her, not before noticing the softness of her arms and her petite body against his own, even if they had the stature of children younger than ten.

She stepped away leaving the arrow. Glancing back and smirking at him she stepped off the edge of the branch, no doubt returning to the city proper for rest. He looked after her before rolling his eyes and swiftly jerking the arrow from his body, ignoring the pain. Of all the students alongside him in training, and there were quite a few, Sylmae, the same Elf girl who had retrieved him from the Dursleys, was the only one who had managed to best him even once, and she did every time they did an exercise. The wounds she had suffered from him were healed with up without a mark thanks to powerful Elven magic.

Foolish thoughts boy; now is not the time for such things.

He pointedly ignored the voice of the Angel in his head, his 'mother.' He had been surprised when she was pleased to be thought of as such; apparently the First had been bitter and angry with both of his parents. She showed no more love for him than his 'father' the Demon did; she just wasn't as insane, her moods however swung to and fro. She hadn't acted as she first had though, seemingly leaving him mostly to his own devices.

"Potter you have to be prepared for the tricks and sleight of hand. That was poorly done, letting her get the jump on you after you dealt with the others so finely," Ekara-Eleniel scolded when she appeared. He offered only a nod so she continued, "Come, you need some blood. The others have already left the training field." She then walked away over the boughs of the trees. But not before one last remark called over her shoulder, "And clean yourself up! You're getting blood on your kit."

He noticed then the trickle of blood that still leaked from the wound in his abdomen and the nerves still burned. He was more upset that he had ruined the tunic though. Harry had been put through a light torture session the very same day he had received his daggers just to acclimatise him to some degree of pain, the Elves who administered it took no pleasure in the activity.

Touching a hand to the hole in his skin he let the magic of his body seal it up sans the scar that should have been left. The fact that unless the blade that broke through his defence was both silver and quenched in Holy Water during forging the wound would heal easily and leave no mark, an ordinary blade of steel nor iron nor other metal besides silver would even have a hard time getting through his skin, had been imparted to him by the Angel.

Flicking droplets of blood from his hands he followed slowly, shaking his head and sighing.

* * *

Elven Forest, United Kingdom

3pm-November 15, 1987

"Even for one as young as yourself, you should be better than this Potter," Sylmae taunted him as once again she knocked him to the ground with considerable force. "You are Hybrid, are you not?"

Harry pushed himself up, moving too fast for her eyes to follow. "You are no older than me."

"That is where you are wrong . . ." the girl continued speaking but in Elven; a language Harry had yet to learn fully.

Harry snapped forward with his spear nearly driving it through the sharp tongued elf. But the leaf-shaped silver head only cut through air and silk. His opponent huffed; her shirt split along the torso by a clean slice. She tore the fabric the still clung by a few scant threads and cast it aside, revealing a streak of blood a hair's breadth wide above her middle.

"Perhaps you shouldn't begin to mock me when you have to win . . . and speak English!"

Sylmae scowled good naturedly at him and thrust her own weapon at him; a straight bladed affair of a sword, a circular disk making up the cross guard and balance weight. Using natural speed and grace Harry avoided the blow and cracked the haft of his spear across her upper back and shoulders. To lessen the impact of the powerful boy's attack the elf pitched forward into a roll, coming up on the other side of the clearing in which they battled.

The color and glow of Harry's eyes deepened, how he hated the spear; large and slower than his daggers. Distance fighting was not his area of comfort. He much preferred a blade with a short handle and it annoyed him that Sylmae had gotten the lucky draw for arms; a slim, strong sword with a gracefully straight blade. He had gotten a solid silver instrument, six feet long with a blade of five inches to accommodate their size more easily.

He did not bother to side step the over head chop from Sylmae. He brought the thick shaft up, stopping the blade dead but wasn't given the chance to sweep her legs from beneath her. An intricate loop of her blade and Harry found that he had lost a hand in silver blade. His enemy's was lodged into his shoulder, scraping pointedly against his bone as his spear stuck deep in the soft loam several feet away.

"You were saying?" Sylmae wiggled her sword to punctuate a point, "And such a commanding tone! You would do well not to order about your elders, Potter."

His eyes showed no pain even with his nerves on fire, "But you are not elder to me, Elf."

"If you spoke our tongue then you would know I may appear but a child and we both are by my people's standing, even still I am ten years your senior."

Harry schooled his features carefully, showing no reaction to the astonishing news. He knew then that more time among the tomes and scrolls of Elven culture was required to understand how she could look to be seven years old but really be seventeen. Something to do with the long lived race was a reasonable explanation but he wanted firm details.

Neither moved for several moments then Harry reached around and gripped the blade of the weapon still lodged in him. He pushed back on it, Sylmae still pressing it in, slowly it slid back until it finally freed from his flesh. The thin running wound closed itself, a useful ability of Harry's and one the Elves did not have. Sylmae would have to use healing salves imbued with magic or a spell to seal the break in her flawless skin.

Harry's eyes focussed beyond the Elf girl so she turned. Rothilion, her father, and Ekara-Eleniel stood side by side watching them. Rothilion looked amused but Harry mentally cursed the gleaming anger in Ekara-Eleniel's hard grey eyes. She was obviously not amused by the two younglings' antics of banter and fighting.

Rothilion made a 'tut tut' noise, "You young ones always ruin your clothing; there's half of your top missing daughter! And you Harry, why is it always blood stains with you?"

Both hung their heads slightly, cowed by the old Elves. Sylmae muttered a few words under her breath and the red liquid sliding down her sword blade vanished. Harry did not know magic as of yet so he could only stand there right hand stained.

"Potter! You must learn all weapons, not just those daggers you carry. And never should a fighter allow their armament to be lost, even in the heat of battle! It is a disgrace. Now come, if you will not fight properly with Sylmae then maybe you will with me!" Her voice was cold and intimidating, a tone that Harry rarely received with this level of harshness.

As the oldest of the Elves led the youngest of the Hybrids to exist away into a more private training area Sylmae moved to stand with her father and watched them go, "May I ask what has happened, father?" she spoke in the native language of the forest dwelling folk.

"Hmm there has been a raid by the Bloods. Fifty Elves were killed in France not but a half day ago, a scout band searching the countryside for marauding bands of Vampires were caught themselves. Several of the dead were born here, Ekara-Eleniel had known them since their beginning and now they are gone." The reply was sorrowful.

"Then the war has begun anew?"

"Yes, Sylmae. Ekara-Eleniel has lived for untold centuries and has seen thousands die but she is not heartless and is upset about the deaths. Her former student does, after all, lead our enemies and seeing her newest and only charge treating her training so lightly doesn't improve her feelings." Rothilion's voice was grim and sad.

"Ekara-Eleniel will not be too harsh with Potter will she?" Sylmae nearly whispered.

"No I doubt it, he is too important for much damage to be done to him." Sylmae was visibly relieved at this, "But daughter, do not get too close to the boy, such things never end well and I would not have you throw your happiness away on him."

"Of course father, I will be as a sister to him."

"Good . . . good. Now go and gather two or three other students and return. We need to reset the trap lines and see if we cannot catch some meat for tonight's meal. I think Harry would appreciate the blood after what his master will put him through as well."

* * *

Elven Forest, United Kingdom

5pm-March 13, 1988

Months had passed. Harry was quickly assimilated into the Elven culture and the life of the Elves living in Scotland. His skill with any weapon handed to him was vaulted throughout the community and he was admired by many; most Elves didn't get jealous so he had few problems with them but that didn't stop them from trying as hard as they could to best him. Except for Sylmae of course; he had beaten her but it was always close.

Harry had mastered all of the melee weapons available to him and he had mostly stayed using his daggers when he had a choice. His training in combat had included stealth and control of every aspect of his body; never before had he had such power over himself. He was free to act and do as he pleased; the Dursleys had stripped that from his childhood. He wouldn't say he enjoyed his new life at all but he was doing something now, that made it bearable.

He had a goal, something that he could actually accomplish but it wasn't as if he didn't think he could do whatever he wanted. He had wanted to leave his relatives dwelling, it wasn't really a home, but he had thought it was impossible and within a few days he was gone from that place. If the man who took his parents from him still lived in some way then he would die. Whatever it took, Harry had promised himself he would kill the man.

His hands tightened around the recurve bow that he held. This was the first time he had been allowed to go on a hunt to fill a table for the night's meal. He had been rather stunned that Elves, so notorious for their reverence of nature and how they abhorred taking the life of an animal; were not vegetarians.

In fact it was a rite of passage for every young Elf to go out alone into the forest and find an animal to take then bring it back to be judged. Elves believed in taking a life of an animal painlessly and not wasting any part of it. The judging would be on the animal taken, shot placement or killing wound placement, condition of the animal and size. One would be more honoured with a better judging so many tried to take the best they could.

They would only take the animals they needed to survive on a diet of equal parts of meat and vegetables. Hides were used for warmth; any bone features such as tusks, ivory, or antlers were used for a variety of utilities from utensils to weapon handles, and innards for attracting the carnivorous animals that were taken. Some of the more docile animals were herded and cared for to supply different elements such as the acromantula silk that his clothes were made from.

It was not his test, no he was with others. Despite that he would have the chance to take his own animal for this hunt and that pleased him. He was tired of being given the blood he needed to remain strong and healthy; this way he could be independent. He had the bottles for it ready and had even gotten them charmed to preserve the blood since as of yet he was not being taught any magic.

He quickened his pace. Currently he, Sylmae, another young male Elf Arun, Eleniel and Rothilion were bounding from branch to branch a few dozen feet above the ground tracking a group of wild boar. It was a smaller group; only two sows and few piglets. Perfect to take with several well placed arrows that would bring enough meat to feed a larger group of Elves.

So far they hadn't seen the animals but sign was clearly visible in the undergrowth. Harry's ears perked up, the others paused as well. Distantly the sounds of snorting pigs could be picked out; they seemed to have stopped moving, perhaps bedding down for the night.

The group slowed after several more moments of running. They needed to be quiet and remain as unnoticeable and undetectable as possible to get the advantage of lining up their shots. Using a complex system of hand signals the Elves communicated between themselves; Harry himself didn't know it, another thing he needed to learn. He had only just started to learn proper Elven language structure. Before he had nothing but vocabulary lists to memorize.

Because he wouldn't let anyone into his mind, Harry wasn't informed what the plan of action was but Rothilion gestured for him to follow. He did as Rothilion split from the group; Sylmae going straight ahead alone, Eleniel and Arun going the opposite direction. It looked like they were going to hit them from three sides and take as many at once as they could. Sylmae was allowed to go alone as she was the oldest of the students.

After a few minutes of creeping through the branches, the noises of the animals growing louder, Harry spotted animals. They were exactly they expected; two sow and several piglets all rooting around in the soft loam, a smaller group than usual, a couple of the piglets must not have survived nature. The forest opened up in a small clearing with older rotten trees, as it often did giving the hunters prime targets for their silver tipped arrows.

He and Rothilion came to a rest on two branches spaced several feet apart, shrouded from the oblivious prey but still able to take the shots they needed. Harry glanced across the way and saw Ekara-Eleniel and Arun crouched in other branches, Sylmae materializing to his left from the trees. He knocked an arrow, keeping a spare in the hand holding his borrowed bow.

As one the hunters pulled on the bow strings bringing the powerful weapons to full draw. To the human the draw would be very heavy but to Harry and the Elves it was light. The animals were completely unaware that their deaths were quickly approaching.

A sharp whistle from Eleniel; the wild boar froze, not a sound came from the normally noisy animals. A second later a sow and six piglets dropped pierced by razor edged arrows. Before the animals could get away completely five more arrows took five more pigs. Only the second sow raced away into the forest.

Harry gave chase; Sylmae was at fault for this, she had been given the chance for the kill and she had missed. He grinned, he knew, she knew that she would never be allowed to forget this. The sow was racing through the brush squealing and snorting. The Hybrid easily kept pace with the creature running on branches directly above its back.

His bow had been dropped when he started after the fleeing quarry so his hands were free to form their claws. In a gap between two of the limbs growing from the large trees Harry slipped down and slammed down on the sow, the force of the impact drove the pig into the ground while his claws punctured the tough hide and bone. His hands shattered the bone of the beast's neck and cut deep into the flesh of the base of its skull.

It was a good catch, Harry knew that it would earn him some more respect from the younger Elves; none of they had chased down a wild boar and killed it with their bare hands. The Hybrid was pleased with the quick work he had made and no meat had been ruined.

From the small pack at his back he pulled several empty vials; hefting the carcass up by the hind legs he slit open its neck enough to let a constant drip of blood to flow forward. He filled the vials and replaced each stopper in them then grabbed the pig and carried back where the others had been rooting; the several hundred pound animal very easily.

The Elves were filling more vials when he arrived. There was a harness with multiple slots lying beside the group of bodies; several of them already having blood filled vials within their spaces. Sylmae stood off to then side watching and waiting for him; she reacted immediately when he arrived. The Elf girl's eyes narrowed and she grimaced very slightly, barely perceptible. She was clearly trying to hide her disgust at the fact she lost.

Ekara-Eleniel nodded approvingly when he placed the carcass down on the ground next to the others. He said not a word nor did the others, instead he immediately went to work on filling more of the vial; they would form up the basis of his store of blood for the months to come. More blood would follow in later hunts as well as being donated from resident Elves.

A thin coating of blood covered his fingers. Harry looked at it then shrugged and absently sucking the blood up and tasting it. He contemplated it for a moment deciding he liked Elven blood more. Harry looked up and spotted Sylmae watching him still. She had been fascinated with his diet since she had rescued him months before. He grinned at her his fangs snapping out to full extension, she looked away pointedly. He shook his head and downed one of the vials refilling it and placing it in the harness. Harry sighed looping the harness over his shoulders and grabbed two of the boar by their back legs. He fell into step behind Ekara-Eleniel and Rothilion.

* * *

The Forges, Elven Forest

2pm-July 1, 1988

"You have used our weapons for nearly the past year. Now it is time that you learned the methods behind their creation." Ekara-Eleniel spoke in a clear voice, devoid of emotion.

Harry stood impassively. Matching his master easily in the dimly lit room of the Main Forge, the Hybrid remained quiet. He knew Ekara-Eleniel had more to say and he would listen. That lesson had been drilled into him early. She even spoke in Elven, he had finally mastered the language after two of months of study. Ekara-Eleniel had taken it upon herself to finish his teachings in that; she had drilled the grammar and structure of it into him.

"Our blades are hand forged by only those with the greatest skill among the Elven Kingdoms. The metal within them is the purest silver taken from magical mines throughout North America by our brothers and sisters living there. It is all sent here, we are the largest of the concentrations of Elven Folk in the world.

Before you ask any questions Potter, there are settlements of Elves all over the world from North America, South America, and here in Europe, Asia and Australia. The only places we are not present is Africa and Antarctica; Antarctica is a barren wasteland and Africa was where the War raged for millennia.

It was there in the Cradle of Human Civilization we were created as well. That land is as terrible as it is beautiful and we rarely venture there, stained as it is with the blood of our ancestors. If you ever go to that place remember what happened there and honour those who lost their lives."

Harry nodded from his seat on the floor. The ground was cool and hard. It had been compressed with magic into a surface as hard as bedrock. It was a muddy brown color as were the walls though thick knotted roots broke through their smoothly hewn surfaced. The cavern was lit with the flickering orange light of the forges. Each was set into the walls with their chimneys running up through the ground into the bases of hollowed out trees above. There were fourteen such forges in the cavern spaced out over a long strip of underground room that stretched on for a distance. Currently the place was vacant the many tools left neatly hanging on the walls and the anvils void of the customary ringing of metal on metal.

"As I said the blades are of the purest silver damaging in its own right to the flesh of Vampires but this becomes far greater when quenched during forging in what most just refer to as Holy Water. I would have you know however that this is not what it seems, the liquid that we use is not what a human would think to be Holy Water. What we use is very pure mountain water gained from springs in our forest and that we have infused with the magic of the sun."

Harry could not help but interrupt at the mention of magic, a subject that still he was not being allowed to study, "Magic of the Sun?"

"Yes. The energy, the heat you feel, the light you see, the life it gives to plants and animals is part of the magic that it radiates. This is the simplest example of magic existing in nature that we have. Our craftsmen concentrate this magic with their own into silver basins filled with the water and as the water boils it is infused with the power of the sun.

Silver alone will cause heavy bleeding and much pain in the vampires but coupled with the infusion of Holy Water there is much more. Along with the bleeding and pain any cut wrought with a blade of our forging will burn the flesh and skin around the wound and it will travel expanding until finally the Blood falls in a pile of ash. If you had stayed longer at the site of your first real fight then you would have noticed this happened to most of the bodies you brought down. The last two had to be removed by one of our teams; we can't have an early morning hunter discovering two corpses that will fade to ash when the sun rises.

Currently your training blades are only silver and their edges are blunted to a certain degree though that doesn't seem to stop you and Sylmae from trying your hardest," A rare smile found its way onto the elf's face, "How you manage to draw blood from each other every time you spar is amazing, no other students have done so. But were these weapons crafted of silver and Holy Water then you would find yourself with more scars than you have now. Hybrids will heal without scars from any wound except those brought on by magic or those taken before their first change.

But come, now is the time to learn how to forge our tools. Should there come a time when you have left us then you can create your own."

A month and a half was spent on teaching him the methods. He learned of the heating and cooling of the metal. Of the knowledge needed to shape the metal, the vision that he needed to see before he could begin. He learned about the delicate finishing of a weapon, the perfecting of the details; from the weight and balance of hilt to the sharpening and polishing of the blade itself. He was told that if he were to start a blade then he would do everything he could to make it as perfect as he could.

Harry counted about one thousand hours had gone into it and his master had slept not a minute during the entire time. She had been taking these concoctions of some sort every few hours. She claimed them to be Enervate Potions to keep her awake since she did not have the luxury of not sleeping.

Despite his first reservations he had had about the fact he did not need to sleep he had indeed found it quite a luxury. It had been even more so after he discovered the library at his disposal. It was there he had found out more about the Elven culture than he had been told. For instance they aged in a very strange way; it seemed they jumped in appearance sporadically. Sylmae appeared to be close to his age yet she was really already seventeen and from what he could gather when he was maybe eleven or twelve she would age again and become older though how much he didn't know.

He had also found more on their rites of passage. When he completed his training then he would be presented with a bow and the weapon that he had chosen during his training both made new by his master. These weapons would be the ones he would keep of the remainder of his life if he followed the tradition.

Harry looked back into the forges. He could admit too himself that he had enjoyed the time he spent in the forges. The task of creating something perfect and beautiful was consuming; many Elves had lost their freedom the forge in the quest for the perfection. Harry would not lose his way, he would not attach emotion to the craft or anything else; he would remain the perfect warrior.

He kept his cool demeanour as the doors to the forges shut. He let himself linger for moment then turned away and followed his master. He still had much to learn.


	5. Part I: Chapter 5

_**Blood Lines**_

_**Part I**_

_**Chapter 5**_

* * *

Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts

10am-January 1, 1988

Dumbledore stroked his beard in deep thought. His mind was rather troubled at the moment, his wards; wards he had taken such care to ensure would remain strong were gone, their magic failed. He looked to the grandfather clock in his office and watched the smooth methodical movements of their hands. Time was passing too quickly for the wizard now, no longer did magic flow through is body as easily as water down a river. He body was slowing, his reflexes rusted with the corrosion of age; something he despised about growing old. He was not the leader of the light he used to be, he was old enough to accept that at least.

Fawkes trilled out a quiet melody. Dumbledore sighed and stood up, picking up his wand from his desk. His joints creaked painfully; the man grimaced and drew a bottle from his robes downing the solution with a sour face. Magic had found a comfort for his old body and he sighed as the potion took effect, an arthritis clearing tonic. He looked at the silver instruments that he had connected to the wards.

"Fawkes I need you to take me to Little Whinging." Dumbledore sucked on one of his lovely lemon drops thoughtfully; he vanished the wrapper withevanesco and a flick of his wand

The phoenix trilled once more and flapped over to the old man. The colourful bird hooked its claws into Dumbledore's shoulder and with a flash of brilliant red flame the two disappeared.

In a dark alley in a normal nondescript little neighbourhood in London a burst of flame left an old man standing in a puddle of ilk and melted snow. He looked down and flicked a thin wooden stick in hand. The puddle vanished and the old man looked around, examining his surroundings. The blue eyes lingered over a deep depression in the brick wall on one side of the alley.

Dumbledore strolled out of the alley, his robes brushed over the snow as he walked along the streets. The neighborhood was quiet and peaceful, it wasn't a bad place. He really couldn't see what the problem was with it; Lily and James had been dead set against Harry going to here. But Harry grew up in a nice normal place, much better than if he had been sent to Andromeda's with all the controversy surrounding her disowning and marriage.

Little Nymphadora was something of a trouble maker too; she was growing up quickly as well. Dreams of being an Auror had possessed the girl as of late, the Headmaster was happy with her direction now. Perhaps her hopes would give more discipline to her excitable personality. He smiled a little, students like her were what made teaching the joy it was; their boundless energy and appetite for life was refreshing, uplifting.

The old wizard walked up the drive to No. 4 and knocked on the plain door. Footsteps pattered to the door and it opened a crack, the wide eyes of Petunia Dursley peered up at him for a second before the door closed. Dumbledore smiled with his grandfatherly air, Petunia had never taken with him very well. Her and her nervousness around magic, maybe the desire to fit in was unhealthy. Memories of Lily's problems at home with her sister came to mind, Petunia had been jealous of her sister. Jealous she wasn't 'special' like Lily.

He knocked again and waited. Deciding that he had waited long enough Dumbledore pushed open the door and walked in. Petunia glared at the intruder into her home.

The wizard smiled kindly, "Good morning Petunia. Just thought I would stop in and check on Harry, I've been wondering about the boy recently." The woman only stared at him, "Where is he?"

"The boy is gone wizard. He and his unnaturalness left months ago. Disappeared, not a trace of him anywhere but that's his freakishness isn't it? He used IT and ran away; poor Mrs. Fig felt terrible losing the boy, good riddance to him."

Dumbledore's face fell. It seemed the boy hadn't had quite the childhood he intended for him, nor the easier life. Looking around he saw no sign that there ever was a fourth member of the household and now he was out on the street in the winter. Hopefully he would be able to sleuth out some clues to where or what may have happened to the Potter scion.

The wizard turned back to Petunia, "Show me the boy's room please Petunia. Maybe I can find something."

The woman's face became stricken. Tight lipped with stiff steps the Dursley wife walked to the small cup board set into the wall beneath the stairs. She opened the door, standing to the side. Dumbledore frowned, surely not in a cupboard of all places. He walked to opening and stooped down looking inside. He saw nothing, a lumpy mouldy mattress, a collection of spiders crawling over the dank walls, ragged dirty socks, dust gathered thickly on the walls, no place fit for a child.

He drew his wand, ignoring the noise Petunia made and waved it over the tiny room, muttering in Latin under his breath. Nothing happened for a moment then; letters glowed under the dust in a golden light. A gnarled hand, wrinkled with age and scars of past battles brushed the dust off. The wizard leaned in, squinting and rea ESC P ERE. He frowned again, was that blood?

He rubbed his hand over the dark stains ingrained into the wall. A dark powder crumbled off the dust free spot. Dumbledore felt the granules of between his fingers, examining the dark color. Definitely blood. What had he done to the boy? What hell had he banished the Boy-Who-Lived to? He had made an terrible error, one he could never atone for. Andromeda's would have been a good home; if Sirius had been free even the Black Manor would have been better than this place. Disregarding the wishes of the Potter Will was foolish; he would have to find the boy as soon as he could. If he wasn't too late.

* * *

Eleven Forest, United Kingdom

12:01am- July 31, 1990

Harry raised his cup in silent salute to himself. He smirked bitterly and took a long draught from the silver cup. He had made it two years earlier while working and learning the forge. Now he used it almost daily; the little cup fit into his palm perfectly and rose three inches from its base to its lip. The silver on the inside of it was darkened with the blood of an Eldar currently, a very rich and full blood it was. Harry had found the blood of older Elves was different from that of young ones and that each elf had a different flavour.

He smirked again. Here he was on his tenth birthday and he was thinking about the variations of Elven blood. Harry leaned back and placed his cup on the simple shelf he had carved into the wall and grabbed a dagger in its place. He examined the gleaming sheen of its blade, thinking. Three years he had been with the Elves and he had been moulded and changed into what he needed to be. There had been no though given to his birthdays neither in his past life nor in his current one. The Dursleys had never once even tried to acknowledge his birthday and the Elves didn't celebrate them. If really dug down he knew he didn't care either way it was just something to ponder.

Harry fingered the blade and pushed himself up. Well he wasn't sleeping anytime soon, in fact he hadn't in three years, so he decided to try and get some target practise in. He picked his bow from its mount on the wall, grabbed a few of its strings then strolled out the door looping his quiver on his shoulder as he went.

Adjusting the sleeve on his close fitting silk shirt he absentmindedly walked off the platform holding up his hut. Harry rolled with his impact and walked along. The sky was dark finally; it took a long time in the summer for the sun to go down. The air had cooled with the loss of the sun's heat giving a fresh taste and feel. He took a deep breath when he came to the long clearing in the forest that made up the range for the Elven bows.

He strung the bow with ease, a simple recurve style weapon fitted with silver finishers, it was a good tool; he trusted it to do what it was supposed to. Harry rolled his neck and drew an arrow. He had made the arrows himself at the request of Ekara-Eleniel when he and Sylmae had broken about fifty duelling. Testing the pull of his bow he knocked the arrow and let it fly down the range. It thudded into the target.

Another and another and another, all hit his target dead center. It was a rhythmic thing and something he could do for as long as he had arrows. There was some peace he found in the simple action. Draw, knock, pull, release; he stopped and drew in a breath. His emotions were rising up and he had spent so long pushing them and the Angel and the Demon down. He had finally quieted them considerably after such a long battle, instead of voices now he only had feelings and urges. Elven meditation techniques helped with that task.

He opened his eyes. They had closed while working to control his enemies. His enemies; that brought up a memory of a lesson by Ekara-Eleniel, she had told him that not all of his enemies were those who were seeking to hurt him. Some were on the inside, emotion was the enemy. It was something to be pushed away, something to be ignored. Emotion clouded judgement, distracted from the fight, weighed down on the conscious. To let go of emotion was to become the fighter that was the Hybrid. That fighter, the warrior was what Harry wanted to become.

He pulled back another arrow and sighted in. A silver arrow of his own making sliced through the waxed acromantula silk string and sunk deep into the earth to his left. He huffed looked up to the right; Sylmae lounged casually on a branch her own bow sitting on her lap. She raised her eyebrow at him and jumped up climbing swiftly higher up into the tall tree reaching the top in an instant. He sighed, she wanted to race again.

Almost no other Elf could move as fast as Sylmae could. It was a rare thing to have one so young be able to move so quickly, Sylmae even outpaced Ekara-Eleniel in most cases. She, though, could not match Harry. She came close often enough but Harry was above and beyond her speed, that didn't stop her from racing him when she had the chance to. He was the only one who could challenge her now that she was so late in her training; they all knew that she would have to wait until she jumped in age.

Harry appeared behind Sylmae. She turned and smirked jumping to the next tree with the speed. He followed closely behind her. To someone like a human they would be at the very most just a blur of color, silver and black. If they really pushed themselves they would end up at the edge of the forest very quickly, in seconds. They jumped from tree to tree and as they did Harry broke off a branch and snapped off the growth on it.

He weighed it in his hand and grinned. He pulled ahead of Sylmae and spun mind jump whipping the stick at her midsection. She blocked it with a forearm, smiling at the competition. He gestured for her to make the next move then took the lead in their race. That was one of the rules they had made, though it was never quite clearly defined; the one in the lead of the race picked its course.

Harry dropped a level and swung off a branch to the next tree, Sylmae followed him closely. The Hybrid kept up an easy pace for himself, maintaining a lead of only a few feet. He could feel the Elf girl's presence behind him, the scent of crushed pine needles and fresh air that clung to all Elves and the near silent swish from the silken material of her clothing betraying her position. He even caught the cold burn of silver and Holy Water.

Finding out why he smelt the silver was not the most pleasant thing but it wasn't terrible after his training. He heard the sound of something cutting through the air then that object hit his leg at knee level and kept going. His leg gave out when he landed on the next branch and he ended up a good thirty feet below on another limb. He hadn't expected that to happen but looking at his cut with an assessing eye he found that it was actually quite deep and long, blood flowing down the side of his calf.

Harry wiped the blood off and shot up in a strong leap, the gash sealing itself back into pale skin. Sylmae had the lead now, she using it to her advantage and putting on a little a little more speed. Harry chased after her for a time making now moves to take the lead; he could recognize the forest and knew where they would end up.

And here it was. Sylmae dodged off to the left to circumvent the large clearing they had come to. It was a sizeable expanse where no trees stood, a great circular thing about a hundred or so feet in diameter. This section of the forest was Sitka Spruce and the trees were among the more ancient and large growing near the city. The city was close to the large pool he had first come across when he arrived, hence near one of the edges of the wood. Harry never quite understood the mechanics behind how the forest was hidden from the human world but he knew it was some focus of extremely powerful Elven magic. Unfortunately he hadn't yet learned any magic so the deeper workings of everything were clouded.

He watched as Sylmae raced off along the edge of the clearing. He himself was rapidly approaching on the topmost branches of a tree that was closer to one hundred eighty feet than one hundred fifty. Something lifted up inside of him; he didn't stop moving when he reached the top. Almost on instinct, a feeling grabbed hold of Harry and he pushed off the tree. His arms stretched out into a swan dive pose, his eyes exploded in bright green light and with a loud crack two large black wings burst from his shoulder blades. Long velvet feathers of a black color caught the air and Harry glided across the clearing effortlessly.

He landed in the middle branches of another tree. His breath came in great gasps and the wings folded tightly against his back. Harry tested their movement watching them stretch behind him. He found it much like controlling his arms, getting used to it instantly as if he always had them. He was rolling his shoulders when Sylmae arrived, climbing up beside him.

She looked at him and shook her head, "That was cheating."

He made to reply but was interrupted, "Potter! Come we have a test for you, your foolish games can wait. . ." It was Ekara-Eleniel standing below the tree clad in her normal outfit of close fit silk. " . . . And put those wings away, you don't need them for this."

Harry glanced at Sylmae and shrugged. After a moment the extra appendages receded into his back with a second sharp crack and no little pain. He dropped to the ground and stood before his master.

"Come along, you must prepare then you will face your test." Her tone was curt and reserved. She walked away towards the city and Harry fell into step behind her.

* * *

Elven Forest, United Kingdom

2am-July 1, 1990

Harry opened his eyes. He had a change of scenery and clothing, now clothed in loose robes of silk and sitting on a tall tree, the top having been removed long ago. The flat surface had been compressed with magic and over hundreds of years the wood was polished. It was far from the city, farther than he had ventured even on the hunting patrols he had joined. The Hybrid rested easily on his knees, hands in his lap.

He had been commanded to take the time for mediation and preparation. Ekara-Eleniel had been unusually somber during the walk, he was almost nervous about the test. The ancient Elf woman had never once been like this before and it was unnerving. His lessons had been easy enough throughout the whole experience of being among the Elves, some had been enjoyable even but the tortures had never brought out such feeling from the Ekara. They had used the full forged tools when torturing him; the silver and Holy Water combination burned his flesh and ripped at nerve endings. The scars were left as a reminder; those were the words the Elves had used. They were mementos of the blood that had to be shed, to make him who he had to be.

Harry clamped down the whirling emotions in his head; he forced back the Parents, ignoring them as he had been taught. It had been the assigned two hours, it was time. He heard the footsteps of a single Elf approaching the base of the tree. The boy scaled down the tree.

"This, this test will push to your limits Potter. This is a pain test but far different than anything you've faced. The Elves dare not take it themselves, only Hybrids are allowed to; its tradition." Her voice was quiet and cold, she was controlling it.

Harry nodded with a sharp motion, "I'll do it."

"Return to the top of this tree, drink this and wait. You'll know when it starts." She handed him a tiny vial of clear liquid.

He took it without a word. Holding the vial in one hand he made his fingers change and began to claw his way up the tree. His robes had no pockets.

"Potter," He looked down at his master, "Good luck."

Harry only looked at the Elf woman with his emerald eyes, their depths glowing faintly. He turned back on to his climb continuing on up the tree.

* * *

Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts

5pm-April 15, 1989

He had lost the boy. His promise to the Potters' was broken. He had sworn to Lily and James that he would guard their child with special care. He had sent Harry to the Dursleys in hope that it would mean a freedom from the fame or rather infamy of being the one who survived the killing curse, from Lord Voldemort no less. Instead the boy had suffered the prejudice of people who hated his natural gifts, the terror of being treated as nothing more than a slave.

He had sent every team at his disposal, every resource he had to search out the lost Potter scion. He had nearly reactivated the Order of the Phoenix to find the boy. Dumbledore had sent the teachers he could out in search for him, the weekends found them scouring London and the rest of England, even Scotland and Ireland had been thoroughly searched out. It was hopeless.

So far the Daily Prophet hadn't caught wind but it wasn't long before someone did. The fiasco that would cause was not something that Albus wished to think about too much. There were very few things that the wizard had failed at; this was something he had, something too important to fail. He was ashamed of it and the horror of the things he had forced an innocent child to endure. He only wanted to find the boy now, but it was impossible; they hadn't found him yet, why would he just turn up?

Albus had no choice but to give up the search. He could not hope to seek out Harry Potter. He had failed and it weighed heavily on his soul. Those who knew were terribly worried for the young man, he was alone. Perhaps he always had been alone, left alone to the darkness of that cupboard.

* * *

Elven Forest, United Kingdom

2:15am-July 31, 1990

In the dim light of the moon and that cast by the stars Harry examined the vial of liquid given to him. It was remarkably unremarkable; one could mistake it for water. It was clear, flowed like water, shaking it did nothing. Some sort of potion no doubt but what exactly it was, he had no idea. The only he knew for sure was it caused some incredible pain.

He pulled the stopper and sniffed the solution. Even his sensitive nose picked up nothing. Harry shrugged and braced himself tipping the contents into his mouth. The flavour was, well nonexistent and he swallowed it without much in the way of difficulty.

Harry shifted and settled into a more comfortable position on his knees again. He did as Ekara-Eleniel asked and waited. It wasn't long before his finger twitched, then his hand, his arm, he collapsed on the broad flattened tree top and convulsed. His blood burned, liquid fire racing through his veins as his heart picked up pace. His muscles bunched and contracted beyond the norm, his tendons cracked and needles pierced every inch of his skin. His guts twisted and pain tore through his middle in a shocking wave that was quickly followed. His throat clogged and he couldn't draw breath, in his chest the pump for his blood jolted.

He lay on the tree twitching and jerking. A guttural noise escaped him when his airway cleared then the pain reached his head. Nails drove into his temples, cutting in through his skull. A primeval scream shredded its way into his throat and out. It did nothing to relieve the consuming pain. There was nothing but the pain, nothing to focus on, no thoughts to be conscious of. He felt nothing, only the pain that drilled through his body. He could barely feel the wood beneath him, what he could feel he didn't want to.

His eyes flickered green and rolled wildly around in his head. Even fibre of his being ached even while fresh waves of agony made his body shudder. Veins stood in vivid relief on his pale skin, the violence of the convulsions tearing the tough material of the robes. His mouth was wide open with the screams rising and falling in a terrible crescendo. He could do nothing to stop it.

His eyes froze, the convulsions halted. The green light exploded outward from his eyes. Claws lengthened from his fingers, long and blackened. Muscle swelled over his body and his fangs appeared unbidden, the wings he had so recently rediscovered snapped from his back like razors. In ragged vicious gasps his breath came as he crouched on his hands knees.

Slowly Harry stood and flexed his neck, wings beating the air powerfully. He felt powerful, in control. Nothing stood in his way, raising his head to the heavens he roared triumphantly. Birds for miles took off at the disturbance. The snarling off his breath quieted and slowed. He pushed away the animal inside of him, the creature that vied for control with new vigour. The Demon had returned in full strength with his shift into a true Hybrid. The pain had forced his change.

The agony of the hours he had spent on the tree, yes it had been hours; he could feel and see the warmth of the sun beating down on him, cut by the shadows of taller trees around him. There was a new awareness in his mind; he could feel that part of him that was the Hybrid, now fully enveloped around his body. Instinct told Harry that from now on he could control full change; no longer would he be stuck with only partial phases of it, claws or fangs or even the wings. He could master it, he had mastered it.

Black liquid fire erupted at his right hand. The substance swirled around the limb, an aura of cold death creeping outward from it. Harry regarded it with morbid fascination, his mind leaping back the years it had been since he had last seen this. It was the Abyssal Magic he had been warned from. Ekara-Eleniel wished that he not touch that pool of vacant darkness.

Yet it called to him. The deep black sang with sweet notes in his head, willing him to utilize such a gift for he was the only one with the power. Such temptation was treacherous; the cold voice of his Ekara reverberated through him. His hand closed in a fist and rectangular doorframe of the darkness popped into existence in front of him. He regarded it warily, absently wondering where the Angel was if the Demon had a new voice.

"Potter, you know the rules set before you." Harry turned to see Eleniel standing close on another tree, "You are not to use that power. It is corrupting; it will ruin you and all we have worked for."

Harry drew back his lips showing off his glinting ivory fangs and teeth. His nostrils flared, "Who are you to command me Elf? I am a Hybrid, Angel and Demon, the Master of Death." His voice was icy and calm but not his own.

"I am Your master Potter. I did not spend three years teaching you so you could throw it all away in some foolish power game. You will obey or face exile!" The Elf's tone spoke of not backing down, her voice as hard as the silver blade gripped in her hand.

Harry growled and shut his eyes fighting an inner conflict, "Fine." His eyes reopened and the glow receded. His fangs shortened to regular canines, his claws faded into the long slim fingers of Harry Potter of human appearance not the Hybrid and the wings returned to his back. Harry swayed, overcome with crushing exhaustion, "I-I'm sorry Eleniel." he managed to whisper the words, his voice it's normal tone and pitch, before falling off the platform of the tree top.


	6. Part I: Chapter 6

_**Blood Lines**_

_**Part I**_

_**Chapter 6**_

* * *

_Daily Prophet Special Report_

_By Rita Skeeter_

_The Boy-Who-Lived not living any longer? The rumours have been confirmed dear readers, Harry Potter the illustrious Boy-Who-Lived has disappeared. Now you may wonder how such a thing can be known by this reporter; for years since the fall of You-Know-Who the Potter scion had been hidden away from the world by one Albus Dumbledore. Now we all trusted Albus to keep our hero safe, were we wrong?_

_Even as you read this, the Headmaster of Hogwarts School has no idea where the Potter boy has gone. He vanished from his muggle home in London over two years ago and not even our Ministry Of Magic knows where he has gone. Files that have been hidden from the public eye were revealed to me recently showing that all registered accidental magic in the hidden location of Harry Potter's home had stopped the summer of 1987. To further push the belief the mysterious disappearance of the Boy-Who-Lived there were apparations detected not a week later, these were unregistered and illegal._

_These secret government files reveal to us that Harry Potter is gone. Upon traveling to the location of Potter's home this reporter found no sign the boy had been there recently. The muggle family living there were just as the regular muggles we have come to expect. They had a son the same age as young Potter would be but he spent his time out wondering the quiet neighbourhood._

_Where has the Boy-Who-Lived gone? Why would he leave? Was he taken? Your guess is as good as mine but it is clear that the Boy-Who-Lived has become the Boy-Who-Vanished._

* * *

Elven Forest, United Kingdom

1am-July 31, 1990

I wonder what this test for him is? Sylmae was left perched in the tree as Potter and Ekara-Eleniel returned to the city. The master was acting unusual, Potter had felt it too; it showed in his walk. She went back around the clearing and searched out the knife she had thrown at the boy. It was coated in the red of his blood and lodged deeply into a tree.

She pulled it out and wiped it down with a cloth she always carried on her. She smiled, every time, every battle, she managed to make the boy bleed. He had excelled brilliantly though, learning the ways of the silver and body within weeks of his arrival. In months he was beating her as much as she was beating him. They had been matched blades, perfectly even in their skill and ability but those days were long gone; she may have reached her peak, climbed as far as she could go but Potter soared above and beyond all.

His physical training was ended as was hers, he would move onto the mysteries of magic and in perhaps a year face the hunting rite. He spent all his time training; practising with weapons, language, Elfish and many others besides, reading countless scrolls. The boy never stopped and she admired him for his determination. Whatever drove him on was powerful, she was hard pressed to beat him in anything nowadays and she was the best student. Even Ekara-Eleniel had trouble keeping the aggressive blades in his hands from her flesh.

She would be stuck in physical training, battling those not fit or skilled enough to stand a chance against her until she reached that point where her body caught up with her age. Until that time she couldn't even attempt the missions that Elves who had reached that point; her father refused to let her go out after that incident, the very same one which brought Potter to them.

She was doomed to hunting patrols and sparring with young students. They had little skill and no interest in her. Potter had the skill; older students were the ones who had the interest. The call of her mind to attempt to find a mate was crooning at her nonstop. As with most Elves she would take a mate while young and they would stay together for a year or more, a method of learning the ways of such things before the Life Mate was taken and children were considered years, sometimes decades after that first foray. Still only Potter presented a challenge to her, though he knew no magic but that given to him by blood. Magic oozed from him as fluid as his blood, if only he learned it and learned how to read the body language of Elves better. Then perhaps there would be some hope except for her father denying that curiosity within her.

Sylmae tried dragging details from her father when she arrived back at their large hut. He wouldn't reveal any details but he was worried for Potter. Just as Ekara-Eleniel had been unusually quiet and reserved, her father was seemingly nervous and would not quit pacing. It annoyed her greatly but she watched her fellow Elf for over an hour. Then came the screams, some animal in pain shrieking horrendously.

Her father's head snapped up at the sounds and he rushed from the hut commanding her to stay put for her own safety. As he rounded the corner out the door she smirked, grabbing her kit and swinging out the window. She followed her venerable father at a distance, trying to stay hidden from his knowledge. She had no way of knowing if it worked but he didn't seem to notice. He was racing between the trees with speed bore nearly of desperation.

He eventually met up with Ekara-Eleniel outside the city. Sylmae was sure that the ancient Elf would detect her but the Elf woman made no show of it at all. Few words were exchanged, none of which Sylmae caught. They rushed off together in long loping strides, Sylmae followed running along the branches of the trees.

The screams got progressively louder. They became so loud that the young Elf maid had to consciously ignore the pain in her pointed ears. The pained noise started to come from higher up, Sylmae learned her skill in pin pointing position from her father and she saw him begin to angle his head up too. Then the noise stopped completely and the forest was deathly quiet except for a sound like bone splitting, the sound Sylmae had heard just hours earlier.

So she know knew this was all Potter's doing or she could safely assume so. Rough breathing reached her ears, Ekara-Eleniel listened for a moment before signalling that Rothilion was to stay but be ready while she went up. They were at an old meditative spot; one used little in this era but still kept in good repair with magic. Her ancient master climbed deftly upward on a neighbouring tree, short curved sword sheathed across her thigh.

Sylmae followed as quietly as she could, working to keep Elf woman unaware. The girl searched out a gap between two thick branches of a tree from which she could watch the goings on. It was difficult, being below the level of the Potter and the Ekara but able to see enough.

She saw the Hybrid; that legendary creature of darkness and power, of strength and magic, the Hybrid Potter. There he stood in his tattered robes, great black wings clawing through the air. A shiver ran down her spine, a pleasant feeling at first but one that shifted into a shiver of fear and shock. That happened about the time the boy drew forth his darkest magic, the feeling of cold death and vast emptiness rolling off of him. He spoke and the fear inside of her multiplied with confusion mounting. The voice was not his own, this voice had insidious layers to it, ones that should not have been there. He had disrespected Eleniel as well, something no one ever did if they liked to be free of pain.

Sylmae watched as he stopped speaking, listening to the Ekara's calm admonishment. Her anger did break through at the last statement. They stared each other, a contest of who had dominance. The tension in the air was high; Sylmae could see that Potter was battling against Ekara-Eleniel as much as he was pushing away whatever had taken his voice. He whispered an apology out and collapsed off the tree.

The Elf girl reacted in an instant, jumping into action and catching Potter gently. She cradled him, as they dropped to another thick tree limb. For the first time since she had met him the boy slept. His face was relaxed and peaceful, long shaggy black hair falling across his eyes; Sylmae found herself enraptured by him. It was something rare to see the young Hybrid so vulnerable and at peace, especially as he typically focussed and perfectly defended with unstoppable vigour.

She dropped down to the ground, standing silently in front her father and Ekara-Eleniel when she arrived. Sylmae made sure to ignore the stern look in her father's eyes and Eleniel's raised eyebrow. The quartet left without a word, the youngest of them being carried by the Elf girl who had yet to make an age leap.

* * *

Elven Forest, United Kingdom

8am-August 3, 1990

Harry's eyes opened slowly. Once again he was lying in a soft bed covered by a thin silken sheet just as he had been three years earlier. And as before he had passed out because of that magic of his that still eluded his grasp, the only of his abilities he had yet to conquer. The Allure and the Fear he had learnt to control early on; deep in the night, alone in his hut he had practised with diligence and eventually gained dominance over those along with his natural gifts through the Elven formed training. There were three Elves in his room judging from the temperature and scents that he felt. He recognized his Ekara's scent and Rothilion's and Sylmae's as well.

The Hybrid pushed himself up onto his elbows. Eleniel's cold eyes regarded him, clearly she wasn't particularly happy with him but at the moment he didn't care much for the Elf either. Rothilion caught his eyes and smiled faintly, apparently he found something funny.

Harry had never quite understood what that particular Elf was about; he was very well respected, his commands usually followed without question. The Elven man had the power to keep Harry from meeting the king, of course the boy found that useful; he didn't exactly enjoy the machinations of the Eldars and their politics. It was the reason he got along with his Ekara, for the most part at least, she seemed to find it all useless as well. Rothilion even forewent the etiquette to show Elves respect.

Lastly was Sylmae. She stood silent and still, a curious expression on her face half hidden by her long smooth dark hair. Her amber eyes, a color most unique among Elves, glittered with some emotion that Harry couldn't place. Another feature rare to the Elven race was the light and sparse spattering of freckles on her alabaster skin just below her eyes. It conveyed that Sylmae was quite different from most her race, faster and stronger than normal Elves with aspects of her physical form that stood out. He vaguely recalled being caught by her however long ago it was.

"Ah it's good to see awake again Harry. You were out for three days this time, not four like last time." Rothilion was still smiling, his smooth voice flowing perfectly with the tones of the Elven language.

"Don't encourage the boy, Rothilion! He and I have much to speak about." Ekara-Eleniel intervened sternly.

Harry regarded the Elf coolly. Eleniel was as much a mystery to him as the other Elves he knew were. They were all so strange, often hiding things from the surface for years. They held grudges for years, traded secrets of magic and such for other information. Their society was strange and Eleniel would always be right at the top them. She kept him reigned in for some reason, prohibited his powers from full development and realization; kept him in check. Harry wasn't pleased with her.

"Be gone both of you! I would speak with the boy now, alone." Eleniel's eyes were still locked solidly on his.

"Come Sylmae, time for us to go." Rothilion spoke softly the light amusement gone; he put an arm around his daughter and turned her out of Harry's hut. She caught his eye over her shoulder and he gave her a small nod, a thank you.

The pair left and Harry turned his attention back to his master. She watched her former student and his kin leave, keeping silent for a few moments. Then hands clasped behind her back she turned, pacing calmly back forth before Harry's bed. He could tell she was contemplating what words to use in what would be no doubt a reprimanding for what had happened. Even now the boy could feel the ball of energy in his mind that signified the ability for his full transformation; unfortunately if he was too change then the violent urges of the Demon would come again.

She stopped at a wall and picked a bottle of blood from the rows of them set neatly in shelves, "Here drink," Eleniel poured the liquid into his silver cup. He took it and sipped at it, the bottle were enchanted to keep the contents cool; adding an inflection flavour to Rothilion's blood. She continued to speak, "I will not scold you Potter. You haven't done anything wrong, not this time. That potion you consumed was designed to do exactly as it did; to cause that pain and eventually force the change in you. Every Hybrid has taken it and you passed with excellent performance."

At his frown she continued, "You may have hesitated, let the Demon gain control and summoned some of the Abyss but you managed to fight back and gain control. This test was to prove you could manage it, to allow the magic of your blood line to manifest fully inside of you. You can control a change now―"

"You claimed it was too dangerous for me to use Abyssal Magic. That will happen if I change Ekara, surely you know this." Harry interrupted.

Eleniel gave him a hard look before finishing, "As I was saying; you can control a change now but you are forbidden from doing it. The purpose was to bring out the amplifying affects of the Hybrid in you to your magic. As we asked you to you learned your other impassive abilities of the Fear and the Allure on your own; the change increased their power and now we may bring you into the magic phase of your training.

You have a year, and then you face the Rite. Your weapons training is over now from now on you will be taught magic for half the day, the other half you may do as you please. Use this time to learn what you may, it's your choice but prepare for your Rite and the future." She halted walking out his hut at the door, "If you want more weapons training seek me out, otherwise in a year's time we will discuss your plan. Rothilion will teach you the flow of magic." With those final words his master vanished into the morning light.

Harry looked after her and waited. After a few minutes he raised his right arm and looked at his hand appraisingly. Claws slowly lengthened from his fingers and their tips turned black. A smile tugged at the edges of Harry's lips as the coiling black energy grew from his skin, the singing seduction of the power and the possibilities that it hinted at. He grinned with a feral look to his face.

* * *

Elven Forest, United Kingdom

6am-August 4, 1990

"Explain to me why exactly my own magic is prohibited again?" Harry asked the question once again. It was as much to frustrate Rothilion as it was to get a clearer idea of the reasons.

"Your magic is the most threatening of your weapons, Harry. Your race defies all conventional ideas for the control of your magic. It is a conscious act to summon it but the power can spiral beyond your control in an instant. The darkness that hovers at the edge of your mind and your body is alive and you know this, you have heard the keening song of the Abyss. The calls of the souls consumed in the black.

You aren't the first Hybrid to be forbidden from the power, and you won't be the last. It is dangerous, not just for but for all the inhabitants of this world. The First had unleashed several of the creatures from that realm onto the world and he spent much time battling against them. And several different Hybrids over the ages have been completely lost in it. We can't allow anything to happen to you, you're too vital to our survival as race so you are not allowed to explore any of that magic."

Harry nodded and remained silent. It was information he already knew, but it was important nonetheless. The Elves needed him more than most would be willing to admit to him. He was necessary to fight some greater evil than himself that stalked the Elven people. He had tried to find the information he needed in scrolls and books and the other literature but it seemed that the history of whatever he was being trained for was gone.

It didn't matter too much. He would be gone soon enough. No one knew it but Harry had plans, many and varied for his future; his education in conventional magic would be through the year and after his Rite nothing was being told to him. If the Elves wanted to keep him in the dark then he would just leave them to their games and if they so badly, what was the point of hiding so much from him. The boy had asked several times to be allowed out on an excursion to the world that the humans ruled, every time he was shut down by Eleniel. They expected him to fight a war for them and he expected them to let him.

They certainly hadn't let him fight. The only blood he had spilled in the past three years had been Elven or animal, just the disappointment of that fact made Harry's skill crawl with irritation. He mentally shook off the feeling of the Demon creeping up on him. It had been that way for the day he had consciousness and always with feeling of anger, irritation, frustration and other emotions came the primal hostility of that creature inside of him. To make matters worse the calming push of the Angel was nowhere to be found within him, her being gone meant that the monster inside of him was free to fight with only Harry's own soul keeping it back.

"Harry, are you alright?" Rothilion's question pulled him from his musings and struggle.

"Yes . . . I'm fine, just feeling the effects from the Trial." Harry really was. The Demon was always needling at him.

"Ah. Well are you ready to continue with your instruction?"

Harry pushed out of the chair, "Yeah let's start."

The Elf man stood alongside Harry and together they descended to the forest floor from the platform where they had first spoke at length. Both of them moved at the same pace with calm familiarity of two companions; not close but at least friendly enough to tolerate their presence. They came to one of the smaller clearings in the forest, the very same where Eleniel had begun his instruction. It seemed this clearing had been one of the only constants in the life Harry now lead; the Dursleys were gone, Sylmae was no longer his partner in training, Eleniel no longer taught him, the other Elves had started to keep their distance, the Angel had faded, the Demon had come and went over the years then returned with a vengeance. Nothing was clear to him anymore, all that was left was the death of Voldemort and anyone who decided to hurt him.

He and Rothilion faced off. Harry stood relaxed and stoic, expressionless and calm. Rothilion poised himself at an angle, keeping the majority of his body clear of any magic that might shoot forth from Harry, much like he would when duelling with blades. The Elf loosely held his slim wand of Ebony with dragon heartstring in his left hand, its tip pointed at the ground. It seemed Elves were much like humans in their dominant hand could be right or left, though many trained to be ambidextrous.

"Now then, we do not have the luxury of giving you a wand to use but you can make do practising wandless techniques. You're Occlumency will allow you to summon energy from your core with relative ease, I believe, but you will need to work at controlling the power much as anything else." Rothilion went through the lesson they had begun the day before. "Now try to send some form of magic at me, we will work on your spells later."

Harry gave a sharp nod, a motion that had become a penchant of him. Harry was irritated upon learning of the simplicity that magic operated on, his own ignorance blinding him from what he should have realized. Perhaps he had always had an idea of how easy magic would be to manipulate, according to his former Ekara it existed in nature and was evidenced through the sun's power on the water used for forging.

Luckily he had contained the creature within himself long enough to get away from the Elven city. Once he was away the magic burst forth from him and he nearly changed completely in the fit violence. Needless to say Harry had tamed the beast with blood and death, taking a small collection of deer and feeding upon their bodies until sated enough to railroad his 'Father' back into a prison. It had resulted in a collection of bone ornaments piled away in a discrete corner of his hut, carved by the claws that now often adorned his hands, and a pile of hides spread to dry on the roof.

His mind opened to the world around him. The flutter of birds in the trees, the breath of the wind tickling the leaves and moss, the breath of Rothilion as he waited, the spongy carpet beneath his bare feet, feet that had been toughened by years of exposure to the world, the scents of the forest so wondrous and varied, the taste, flavors of life and death both. All so familiar and almost comforting in this place of the Fair Folk, a place he no longer truly belonged to. He caught the fear, the subtle hints of it clinging to the many Elves; fear of him. The comfort of the forest he had grown to call home was gone, faded as the fellowship had. Harry was no longer as welcome as he once was; the change had forced that realization in him. He was aware.

Harry tapped into his power. Not the Fear, the Allure, nor even the Abyss was this power. This was magic in the raw form held inside all wizards' minds and bodies. A pulse, visibly disturbing air that rested in front of the Hybrid, pushed intensely from Harry. Rothilion reacted to it immediately, flicking his wand upward and a translucent grey barrier jumping before him. Ripples and a clear gonging note rang out when the force reached the barrier. The shield held but only just, displaced air pulling the light robes on the Elf back from him and plastering the silvery shifting silk to the slim powerful body.

The wind and forced abated. Harry watched Rothilion with a smirk on his lips and cold derision glittering in his emerald eyes. They had kept magic from him for far too long. Rothilion only smiled pleasantly at him before a twitch of his hand catapulted a sickly yellow glow at Harry. With what would only be slow to a Hybrid Harry blinked and watched the ball of energy creep toward him at less than a snail's pace. His own speed made nearly all projectiles useless against him, discounting those that had been enchanted. A similar barrier of glassy black-green flickered in the path of the bolt of magic but winked out of existence too soon.

As Harry sidestepped the magic, feeling the slight heat discharged from it as it swept past his own robes, made from the same as Rothilion's, the Elf spoke, "Not bad for your first attempt, drawing forth a simple form of banishment." He smiled once more, "You were always an excellent student. Now notice that your shield faltered there, your grip on the magic must have slipped then you lost it completely."

Harry's muscles tensed at the failure. He could tolerate no weakness, he had passed the tests and trials set before him, conquered every obstacle. The Trial of the Hybrid, as he had come to learn it was dubbed, had made him something completely different from what he had been. Whatever phases he had been through prior to that one critical moment of control were the past and his life now was the present and future. He had true power now, nothing stood in his way and magic surely would not.

He took a calming breath, "Again."

A second bolt flew towards him and his shield caught the energy with a resounding clarion, this time holding fast with diamond strength. He grinned his feral grin, teeth gleaming white, and once again sent a wave of banishing magic at Rothilion who countered accordingly. The back and forth of magic went on for several minutes neither side gaining anything.

At a lull in the constant contest Rothilion spoke, "Mould the magic to your desires Harry, the energy is to be manipulated." Instead of the bolt of yellow glow, marking a bludgeoning hex, the red glow of the stupefying charm rocketed at him after a motion of the Elf's hand, "This is easier with the movement of your body."

Harry recognized the different spells from the characteristic glowing color and shape the magic took as it flew toward him. He had studied the written material given to him diligently through the night, his natural speed and quickness of mind in battle transposing upon the study of literature. His absorbed all information given to him and hungered for more as much the blood that sustained his body and sanity.

The red splashed harmlessly against the shield. With a nearly lazy air Harry flicked his wrist and flames swirled around his body before cutting a line at the man. The perpetual pleasant smile vanished and furrows creased Rothilion's brow. The flames blossomed into open petals that billowed against the barrier Rothilion had kept up and that was even now cracking dangerously.

The magically induced fire broke through the guard, shattering it as glass, causing great shards of it to fade into oblivion. The fluid like flames pounded the Elf back, lifting him from his feet, slamming the immortal into a tree.

A thrill of victory, the exhilaration of triumph over a challenge rushed into Harry. The savage joy overtook his restraint suddenly, lacking any preamble to it. The black green glow, an earmark common to Harry in many things, entered his eyes and expanded. His pupil shrank to miniscule dots lost in the sea of green. The flames exponentially grew and pushed with more power against the Elf, searing heat charring the trees and forest floor. His fanged mouth snarled with a terrible animal quality but still held the full wrath of the demon in restraint.

For all of this power rushing from Harry, Rothilion remained untouched by the flames. The frictionless, nigh indestructible surface that the enchanted acromantula silk robes presented turned away the heat and flame. The large hood that he had flipped up discarded the lethal fire as nothing, protecting his head and silvery hair, so recently cropped to a shorter cut. Slowly the Elf brought his arms to bare, wand long since dropped, and just as the boy had done pushed out a wall of power.

Harry now consumed more in animal than that of humanity roared at the challenge and pushed more energy into the flames. The Demon had gained primary control over his body and the part of Harry that was still human or Elven in behaviour could only check the full magic and force of the beast from his body. Refusing to surrender to the cries inside of him for his instructor's blood, the part of the Hybrid that was Harry Potter fought back.

This, however, was all cut off when―in a great show of Elven strength―the trapped Elf struck out with the wall of silver grey energy. The invisible battering ram cast the flames aside and smashed into the boy head on. He was thrown back, as he had thrown Rothilion, to halt only when his young body all but demolished an ancient tree. Such was the force that the wood buckled, exploding in dust and splinters. When, finally, the air cleared the great tree was canted to one side and Harry was shaking his head clear, peeling his own body from the deep jagged depression left in the trunk.

Rothilion looked on at the young student, for the first time fear of the being before him entered his mind. The boy had a great darkness in him, one that he could not hope to fully control yet, "That, Harry, is enough for today. We will continue another time." He spoke with the reserved tone of Eleniel. A thought struck a chord in the Elf's mind, Sylmae had better guard her heart against that beast. Harry Potter was no longer the human creature he once was.

* * *

Elven Forest, United Kigdom

1pm-October 31, 1990

Another date to celebrate. This day held but a slightly more exalted position in Harry's mind than that of the day of his birth. The anniversary of his parent's death was not something he would enjoy to think about, he preferred to plan for the future rather than reflect on the past. As the saying went 'what's done is done, no use dwelling on it,' his parents were dead, why then should he think about it? Even he couldn't bring them back.

The dead could rest in the world of the Afterlife. No magic could bring them back, any of them. His own ability with his gifts was restricted to only what he guessed would be a scant glimpse of the Beyond. Harry had practised earnestly in the control and manipulation of the Abyssal side of his magic and it came to him much as the practise with his conventional magic; steadily and with only small difficulty. He could take it only so far, the Elves were particularly sensitive to the feeling of the magic.

The Elves had distanced themselves from him rather more than he expected, even Rothilion had pushed him away because of that incident the first day after his awakening. The only one who didn't care that much outwardly about his trouble with the Demon was Sylmae. For whatever reason she still demanded that they duel occasionally and tried to change things up by inviting Arun or other Elves, the boy had just decided it was because that alone no other Elf was willing to cross blades with the Elf girl. Even facing her in a group almost no Elves were able to beat her. In his case it was the reverse; nearly no group of Elves numbering under twenty pairs of hands to carry blades in, could get the mock killing blows on him.

He could accept what had happened to his relationship with the Elves. He was the monster they all feared was in him. The boy realized this after he had lost control, there had been nothing left in his mind and the Demon had forced its way to the surface leaving Harry to struggle with the magic. He had barely held the thing from total power over him and the Hybrid rising fully within. Only the intervention of Rothilion's magic with the strength of the Demon over him had halted the total dominion that had been approaching, though he expected that the man had still protected him from the King.

The Elf had rather upset with him after that small disturbance. The man who had welcomed him with open arms now looked at him with the wariness of someone caging a wild animal. He was nervous around the boy, Harry saw that everyone was nervous around him and it wasn't without cause. Except for Eleniel, she didn't get nervous or fearful, she was too old for the simple emotions; the boy knew that Eleniel feared nothing anymore. It was only logical that would be the case as well, even if she was protecting herself as much as her kinsmen. Everyone had a fear, one, they only admitted to in the deepest black of the night while safe and comfortable in bed. The difference was whether they gave into that fear or fought back against it; Eleniel had fought against her fear of failure when she took him on as a student.

That disturbance had aided somewhat in his progress. The Demon had respect for him now enough to stop whispering every second he was conscious, which was all the time. If ever he became agitated or worked up in any way with negative emotions―anger, irritation, stress, frustration―or such things as the blood lust struck then the Demon attacked with renewed viciousness.

Harry regarded the silver dagger in his hands carefully. The weapon was a work of beauty, possessed of brilliant grace and ageless elegance; and this one was only a simple piece picked for training. He glassed over the flawless blade with a soft cloth. The boy knew to keep each tool he had in the perfect condition, it caused dishonor for blood to be drawn with a poorly kept blade. He was already looked upon with disdain among Elves, no need to make things more difficult than they already were.

A flick of his wrist and the dagger was embedded at the edge of the portal leading out of the hut. Harry stood, casting aside the silk robes and examining himself in a silver plate. He was clothed in only the slightly loose pants he had been given. Over the years he had grown, now he stood at just over five feet in height. His face had hardened from the training and the angles and predatory look had become even more pronounced with the blackening of the green in his eyes. The bright emerald that had once lit them with brilliant depth had been replaced by a darker color; the emerald was still there but black flecks had appeared in the orbs, and they swirled with intense sentient power. His skin was still pale and white on his face and across his bare upper body. His black hair had grown long, shaggy and dishevelled falling to his shoulders and down his face. The muscle that had grown was still there, even more clearly shown under the thin covering of his tough skin the wiry cords tensed whenever he moved.

The boy threw a light vest over his shoulders, the garment having no way of securing at the front he simply strapped on a harness filled with various small knives and daggers. Harry checked his harness over then grabbed a belt from the shelf while walking out the portal. Before completely leaving the hut he replaced the dagger he had put in the wall back in its place on the belt. As was his routine, Harry dropped from the path outside his hut to the forest floor.

He wondered along. Absentmindedly tasting the air out of habit and thinking to himself that perhaps Sylmae would like a challenge this afternoon. Harry came to the clearing, the tree still crooked and splintered at its base, to find Sylmae waiting for him. He grinned and stepped over a groaning Arun, blood staining his bare feet and the hiss of silver disturbing the air.

* * *

Elven Forest, United Kigndom

2:35pm-December 26, 1990

Harry swirled the warm liquid in his mouth, savouring the sweet hints of salt and the energy it imparted to him. The warmth flooded through his own veins, power following closely after it. He needed not even a bit of sleep because of his diet. The fresh fire the sweet nectar ignited within him was something that sleep would never give him. More blood rolled over his tongue, tantalizingly flavours touching his mouth; flavours only Vampires could experience besides himself.

He turned his attention back to Rothilion. They were, once again, sitting at the table; the two bottles resting next to the cups. Elven magic kept winter's full grasp from taking the comfortable temperatures away from the forest. While outside in Scottish countryside snow fell thicker than down in the England nothing touched anywhere in the boundaries of the forest. The temperature had dropped slightly but it was nothing. The animals that lived in the area went about as they normally would, though Harry hadn't seen much in the way of the magical creatures that were mentioned in his scrolls.

Harry took another sip as the Elf across from him spoke, "You wished to speak to me about something Harry?"

"I have a question actually, Rothilion. Back when I was human, when I slept, I had a dream. In the dream I saw . . . the future I assume. I saw exactly what happened when I arrived here at first then I saw what I now know was part of my Rite. I want to know what this means. I have been thinking about it more and more; I want to know." Harry pushed a human element into his voice. He had become aware of the cold in his voice and knew that Rothilion would not grant him any concessions if he detected that unfeeling beast inside of him.

Even so the appraising eye was upon him as the reply came, "You saw what yet to pass, you say." He paused and hummed to himself, "Was there anything else in this vision?"

The boy did not hesitate, "No." The Elf had no need to know the other two pieces to the vision. The darkness that spoke was of no concern.

"Well it would appear that your visions are just another part of your heritage. In wizards and witches, human ones, the Sight is uncommon and considered a gift, but with our culture we believe that the future is best kept a mystery. The visions are not necessarily going to come to pass; it is only a possibility though with Hybrids that is a very likely possibility."

Harry noticed that there was almost one of the old amused smiles there on the man's face. Perhaps all hope for the old Elf's trust was not lost. He would need that trust to remain in the good graces of the rest of Rothilion's race if only so they wouldn't try to destroy him. It was after all quite likely that some action against him would be eventually taken in one form or another. The potential for Rothilion to give him some protection could be used in the future if need be. Harry had no wish to spill Elven blood but the Demon certainly did, the urges to take pleasure of Elven blood were great. No doubt some ancient hobby of the original physical form of the thing inhabiting his body.

Even so he could enjoy the supply that the Elves did give to him and keep a lower profile among them than he once had. That was the only reason that Rothilion had spoken to him now, no other incidents that he knew of had occurred since the first. That didn't things hadn't happened but the Elves need not know about any of those.

Harry stood and inclined his head slightly as a sign of respect and got up. The Hybrid walked away the cup still in his hand and the bottle in his other.

* * *

Elven Forest, United Kingdom

11:30pm-May 14, 1991

This was it. Harry padded slowly through the forest, flanked on either side by Rothilion and Eleniel. It was his time, his Rite would begin in but a few short minutes and he would prove himself to the foolish Elves. Soon he would have a kit of weapons made especially for him, crafted with extreme care by the one whom had grown to know him most― Eleniel had taught him nearly everything he knew and she would have been the one to make his kit.

Despite himself and his perpetual calm Harry's mind was traveling at a thousand feet a second considering everything that would happen. An animal would fall to his blade this night and at dawn he would return to the city. His formal training would be complete and he would join the war effort against the Vampires, the animals that ravaged throughout Europe and particularly the UK causing many unexplained deaths in their constant need for blood and battles for Alpha status.

He flexed his hands and willed the ocean scene in his mind to calm. They walked through a line of trees, torches of every color in sconces on the trees, their flames licking the air and casting a myriad of shades over the green of the forest. Ahead he could see the shadows of Elves standing in a circle around the clearing that had become so familiar. Their scents assaulted his ultra sensitive nose and drew a small amount of thirst up from within him; he ignored it as best he could.

Eleniel and Rothilion moved to the one end of the circle standing side by side. Harry stepped forward slowly and knelt, bowing his head as was custom. When he looked up he took in the Elves; fellow students who had trained alongside him some whom had reached their maturity leap, others not quite there, Elves he knew not the names of nor recognized stared at him with vapid eyes each schooling their expressions to hide whatever they were feeling. Sylmae stood behind and slightly left of her father, her eyes betraying a small amount of pride, she had been with him since the start and was as much responsible for this as was his own hard work. All wore the shimmering silver silk clothing that was hardest to make and best suited for war and ceremony, the light from the flames throwing strange shapes and shadows on the cloth.

Rothilion stepped forward, the long lost smile having returned to his lips. He looked down upon the boy and spoke, "Harry, you have been here for a few years now and you have completed your training. In our culture, the culture of Elves, you have reached your maturity and we present you with your coming of age gift."

Harry's eyes never moved as Rothilion took the black lacquered wooden case from Eleniel and presented it before him. The glossy finish shone brightly in the light and the intricate silver clasps undid. A slender hand gently lifted the lid revealing Harry's new kit for him to see.

Never had he seen such beauty expressed so clearly in craft weapons. Brilliant colors were reflected by the impeccably polished silver. Two daggers, formed of a different shape from his regular weapons of chose rested softly on a soft black backing. From the straight handle of black material, no doubt fitted to his hand perfectly a long graceful blade arced upward in a sweeping curved ending in a wicked point. Near the beginning of the blade there was divot that created a hook in the silver before it continue into the deadly implement. Yet as perfect as the two weapons were they remained incomplete and imperfect to him for some mysterious reason. Above the daggers rested a bow fitted with both decorative and functional silver accents. Two sharply pointed silver tips capped each end of the dark wood with a groove cut into each for the string. At the midpoint of the bow a sculpted circlet made a handle and rest for the arrow to be shot from. A third weapon rested on the black silk, a curved sword, long and gleaming. A faint rippling temper line ran along its edge, marking the bonding of two separate silvers together. It seemed that Eleniel had made it in such a way that it mimicked the methods of Asian blacksmiths, creating a particularly strong and effective weapon. Both effective and beautiful the sword had a relatively simple handle of dark wood wrapped in a coarse black acromantula silk variation.

Harry was mesmerized by the brilliance of the gifts bestowed unto him. Clearly Eleniel had foregone her reservations about him, ones that had arisen after years of working with him. She had spent a great amount of work on this; Harry was skilled enough in forging silver to realize this was no small token. It was a symbol that the Elf Eldar was still ready to trust him if he so wished. Truly he was not sure if he could accept it; after the treatment he had received in the past months he was none too happy with the Elves. The Demon was just thrashing to be released to wreak havoc on the settlement and forest, to bath the area in the blood of thousands.

He pushed the thoughts aside, taking the case with reverence from Rothilion and snapping shut the lid. He stood, inclining his head once more and awaiting the rest of the ceremony. The flames of the torches flickered brighter for a moment then sputtered and went out. A new light popped into existence in front of the boy.

"As a Hybrid, for you there is one other matter to attend to this night." Rothilion continued; the new white flame hovering before him, "If you so choose, Harry, you may accept a mark to help draw forth the Angel side of you. This will help contain the Demon and manifest a lighter side to the Hybrid."

Harry almost laughed at that. So this was the catch to go with the gift, he would take some brand, one that would be guaranteed to have pain just so he could become 'lighter' and 'better.' They did still fear him and his power, power that neither they nor anyone else could comprehend. But the intoxication was a dangerous and deadly, an evil force inside of him that was just as likely to destroy him as create something more within him. The power of the Angel was minute, her soul weak and muffled and her influence non-existent.

He contemplated it for a moment longer, aware of the eyes of the Elves on him, then nodded, "Let's do it then."

"Very well. This will hurt Harry but your conditioning will take care of it. I will begin now."

With a thought Harry's mind cleared of any distractions and he was prepared for whatever was coming. His eyes lost focus as Rothilion chanted in a strange Elven dialect, his wand having appeared from his robes waving over the boy. Harry could only catch one or two words none of which he could connect fully. It started with a blinding white light that seared even his eyes, overwhelming them with burning fire. Then seemingly white hot blades pierced his skin across his upper body, delving into his flesh with vicious strength that was not yet physical.

The last thing Harry knew before he lost conscious thought was fiery lines racing over his body and the warm but stern light that had been dormant rising up within him once again.


	7. Part I: Chapter 7

_**Blood Lines**_

_**Part I**_

_**Chapter 7**_

* * *

Unknown

Unknown

He floated in nothingness. He could see nothing, feel nothing, taste nothing, smell nothing; there was nothing, absolutely nothing in the silence of wherever he was. He wasn't even sure if he had a body at this particular moment, did he care? No, for some reason he did not, a reason that escaped his grasp. There was a rather utter lack of any real sensation in the place he was in―that is if where he was could be considered a place. For all he knew it was some sort of mental construct that his subconscious had created or that the other inhabitants of his body had made.

Harry could only remember burning that cut across the muscle of his chest and shoulder. Light. That stood out in his recent memory very clearly, blinding, searing light that blotted out everything. That was gone now though, there was nothing. He knew he had memory and thought, he wouldn't know anything if he didn't but beyond that there was a limitless feeling of void.

Then he was falling, a controlled sensation of tumbling through space and a body had returned to him again. He remained calm and considered this new development; nothing was clear to him. The world flashed white, he could see again, however, that sense was null in that there was only blank white expanse of featureless screen to gaze at. An instinct made him act and he followed the one constant in his life, flipping his body during the plunge. He hit something solid, his legs folded beneath him absorbing the impact.

He rose slowly looking around. Still there was no clue as to what was going on in his head, unless he was already inside of his head . . . but then how could he have a conscious inside of a conscious where he had no clue what was going on. That brought into question his sanity in this moment, was he sane to believe he was in some location within his mind but he could think and feel and wonder completely separate from his own mind while within it. He nearly laughed at that but that would create more issues and he really wasn't interested in delving into his own character and who he was.

His eyes, something he noticed retained their acute sensitivity, picked out a tiny dot of black an immense distance from his spot. The spot grew slowly larger before suddenly Harry felt a large hand close around his throat. Scaly skin, a leather quality to it, scraped over the flesh of his neck and five razor points sunk in. Hot breath reeking of death and rotted flesh flooded over his face. A deep guttural rumbling drew Harry's attention and he found a pair of glinting black eyes boring into him, a blood red color permeating the deepest depths of them.

He examined the Demon. The visage of the creature was something he could recognize in himself, the face was sharp and angled as that tablet had shown years earlier. It, though, did not give the proper justice to impressive figure the creature cut. The long thick canines struck a startling contract to the black skin, ridges of hardened bone material present along the jaw and brow. The black lips pulled back revealing more glimmering teeth all filed into perfect points and thick saliva dripping down its chin.

With a painstaking slow pace the Demon lifted Harry up with a steady arm, the feral face showing no strain. Those five points dug in farther, piercing his skin as if it were wet paper. The black bony wings stretched out behind the Demon as the two blood relatives glared coldly at each other. It was tense and deathly still span of time, broken by nothing but the rustle of wings. The green orbs locked in a silent contest with the black slits.

Using the same steady unflinching calm as the creature Harry's arm came up and his hand locked around the thick wrist of the Demon. The muscles on his arm swelled as his grip tightened then he exploded into action; Harry ripped the monster's arm from his throat, leaving four red lines on the right side and a single one on the right that oozed his dark red blood. A booming thunder clap sounded off, the boy's hand smashing against the rock hard torso of the Demon and driving the thing back several feet. The two beings snarled at each other.

Harry's magic burst forth and he changed, all parts of the Hybrid answering his call. The wings grew out with their customary crack, the claws formed, the fangs elongated, the muscle beneath his pale skin straining tightly, only slightly masked under the skin and this time there was no screaming presence from the Demon. That threat was in front of him, challenging him with all the power of a race so ancient the Earth was still a molten ball of flame and liquid rock when they came into being.

"**What do you expect to do boy?" ** The voice was deep and terrible, **"You have challenged me for far too long; you grew weak and foolish under the guidance of your mother's servants, I will not tolerate it. You will die."**

Harry roared at his father. The larger being charged forth with speed equal to his own and tackled him with pure animal rage. The stench of death swamped the boy's sense of smell and clogged his mouth with disgusting flavour. They rolled together over the invisible surface of the white universe they were in, red and black liquids staining the pristine area as both bled from gashes cut by claws.

Harry felt ribs shatter as the large rough hand of the Demon dove into his side and pints of blood poured forth from him. He ignored the burning of his devastated flesh, scoring his claws up and down the Demon's chest as they grappled. He scrambled over the larger body, biting deep into the black skin where the thick muscle of a calf flexed. Black blood gushed up into his mouth filling it with a sour tang that made him want for water or some other drink to cleanse his taste buds with.

The monster roared with rage, the scream devoid of any pain, and reached behind himself. Harry acutely felt the intense pain as a hand closed hard around one of his legs and wrenched him brutally, breaking the grip he had established. He was whipped around, as a dog would shake a dead rat, before he was tossed to the ground; thick oily black blood sliding around him. The thudding steps of the creature approached him and Harry was lifted from the ground, a cruel grip crushing his wings. A slap threw his face to the side, the bone ridges of the back of the Demon's hand tearing more of his skin.

He managed, barely, to catch the second hand before another slap stripped more flesh from his face. As a viper would strike quickly and devastatingly the boy's formed a flat board tipped with claws before snapping out and digging hungrily into his opponent's arm pit. A fountain of more Demon gore gushed forth from the wound and splattered noisily over the white plateau of featureless ground, it even began to hiss angrily as though acidic. The clarion of more roaring rung out and the larger of the ancient creatures hurled his smaller counterpart away.

Harry slid to a stop, his own blood creating a layer between him and the surface he was on that was slick enough for him to travel quite a distance before coming to a stop. He pushed himself up, more of the sanguine fluid pouring from his body with every movement. With the respite the wounds on his face closed quickly, and left not a scar despite the damage. His side would take more time but time he did not have as his father stalked toward him aggressively. He was relentless, enjoying the violence and cloying scents in the air; the Demon was beyond anything Harry had experienced.

Still he prepared himself for another skirmish, refusing to give into a creature he had pushed away before. He felt weaker though and his energy was not being diverted to healing the mortal wound in his side or any of the other splits in his flesh and skin. It instead went to his magic, fuelling the Hybrid's power and change steadily. It was a greatly taxing thing, the strength of his other soul was far more than he would have expected if he had just gone on pushing the thing away every time he felt it rising within him. No, here there was a more real element to the Demon inside of him, something tangible―something truly supernatural.

At the same time the Demon seemed stronger Harry felt weak. Weaker than he had ever felt before; his body ached with agonizing pain, his limbs felt heavy and laden down with some impossible weight, his vision fluttered in and out with speckled black dots obscuring it. He still saw with the speed he had but he could not react in time to anything anymore and the constant blood loss made it worse.

The Demon was in front of him. His hand drew back, curled with claws poised for a ravaging blow. Harry saw the arm moved in terribly slow motion, the great limb scraping through the air with incredible slowness. But try as he might, Harry could not summon the strength to prepare for it with a block. He could only stand and watch, swaying a little bit as his death approached; nothing left to do but await it. Yet before the blow could land, a golden white light flashed in an explosion and the strike never came.

A dazzled Harry's looked to find a beautiful woman; tall and slim, pale lips set in a hard frown and elegant eyebrows furrowed. Blue eyes glowed as did his green ones and the Demon's black-red eyes. Though her stature stated otherwise the woman stopped the blow cold, her long thin fingers clasped tightly around the Demon's wrist. Her face not once wavering she flung her former mate away and stood between Harry and the Demon, seemingly unconcerned about the creature she had just cowed.

Her voice was melodious but stern, "Look at what you have done!" she turned her eye upon her mate, "You! Be gone now or face the consequences." The Demon growled but backed away and disappeared when the woman summoned more golden light. She turned back to Harry, "Foolish boy. You should not have come here and definitely you should not have challenged your father, wh―"

Harry burst out in anger, "You think I chose to come here! I don't even know where here is! And as for 'challenging my father' he threatened to kill me, how can you not understand that!"

"SILENCE! I will not stand to suffer your petty arguments, my son. We have not the time for you to rant like a child about things of your own doing. You chose to come here when you agreed to take the Elves' mark to strengthen me within you. How do you think it is that I am here―were it not for the Elves then you would likely be dead for you could not stop your journey here; He has been working to bring it about for months." She looked at him with her cold blue eyes, the glow boring into his own darker green orbs, "Were it not for the brand you have received then you would be lost, your mind destroyed and Him in full control of your body."

She grew silent for a moment. Harry wiped blood from his face and stood up straighter, the grievous wound in his side healing as the bones moved back into proper alignment and fused together, his flesh sealing back over top of it. With the Demon gone and no threat truly apparent he could allow his magic to recede; he returned to his human appearance with only the faint glow in his eyes, a hint of the power that was contained inside of him. Slowly, one by one, the other lacerations sealed up and Harry looked only ragged and bloody instead of ragged, bloody _and_ dying.

The woman, the Angel, continued, "I do not have much time to tell you what I have to say; the Elves' spell strengthens me but what I do with that strength is completely up to me. I could stay and become a voice within you again, as I once was, but that would not do much to help you or the Elves in the battles to come. Instead I will give unto you that power given to me, shoring up my own influence in your blood to help match His.

What will happen is a mystery, but I can guess He will be quieter and possibly something will happen in a more physical or magical sense to you. You will not change in the racial side of you, your phasing abilities will remain with you but something more may become of your power.

Something like this has never been done, of course the Elves offered each Hybrid before you the brand; some took it, others not but always I remained a voice. With you I will fade away to the back ground, not vocalizing my power but tempering the His over you. You will be unique, even among your race, my son."

Harry could only watch as she placed her hands on his chest and abdomen and closed her eyes. The gold light flashed brilliantly, Harry felt a bolt of lightning rocket through his body. His eyes rolled in his head and he saw the Angel disappearing, the white world fading into blackness.

* * *

Elven Forest, United Kingdom

8:30am-May 18, 1991

Harry's eyes opened. Yet again he was on his bed covered by a silken sheet. He growled lightly in response to that, ever should he wake up in a bed; he didn't even truly need sleep! Though, after the ordeal of another change, no matter where it took place he was usually left weakened considerably and in need of rest or a great amount of fresh blood. His tongue flicked over his lips, he was thirsty, the need for blood drying out his throat and making each breath difficult. It seemed much more of his energy had been used than he expected, that explained why he felt as though he had been unconscious for days.

Vaguely he was aware of the still burning lines on his chest and abdomen though whatever pain he should have felt bothered him little. He lifted the sheet off of himself and examined his body. Thrown in together with the many scars of his abusive childhood and training were more than ten new ones, long, deep and ragged slashes that had healed into rough lines arched over his chest. He could feel a collection of other similar shaped ones on his back and shoulders as well. The wound he had taken in his side was healed, a pale smooth splotch splashed across his ribs.

But what really caught his attention were the marks from the ritual. Stamped into his skin were pale raised lines meeting at layered circles in certain areas of his body; namely the front of his shoulders, the center of his chest and just below his solar plexus centered on the top two muscled knobs of his abdominals. At his back he could feel three other spiral-layered halos, two on each shoulder blade and one in the back of his neck. He huffed and shook his head, he had been scarred even more so

No one was in his hut this time; it was quietly peaceful and serene. They had been in the construct recently though, Harry could tell from the flavour of fresh blood and the lingering scents of Elves. Next to his bed rested a crystalline bottle, cut with sharp faces and edges; filled to the brim with steaming red liquid. His fangs, hidden still, throbbed hungrily at the taste in the air.

He breathed deeply while sitting up fully. Easily the intense pain that radiated from the sore scars was cast aside by his training and experiences with torture. He delicately hooked the bottle with two fingers and sipped the warmth inside. It was sweeter than he would have expected, rich and deep; slowly he deepened his draught until he had drained the container in one continuous gulp. His tongue gathered up the blood that had flowed onto his lips and he savoured the last bit of it. That blood had been particularly and unusually good.

He set the bottle down with a clank. The blood had refreshed him greatly and the pain he had been ignoring faded away. Powerful new energy coursed through him and once again he felt as he should have; in control and confident. Without any familiar weight of a blade or blades on his side or anywhere else, he did, though, feel naked and maybe even a little anxious.

Automatically, and lacking any thought to it, Harry glanced to the black case on the floor. The magic of the weapons contained inside of the gift called to him with the same allure of Abyssal magic. He knelt before it and undid the clasps; his reverence remained just as it had been during the first stage of his Rite. With a gentleness that could belie even his great strength his eased the sword from the depression it rested in and brandishing it before him. The silver blade swept through the air as if the blade itself was nothing and Harry grinned at its perfection. A soft click and the sword locked solidly into the sheath that had rested beneath it. He set it down on the bed, following soon after with the bow; the long recurve limbs flexing smoothly when he strung it. That left only the daggers.

Harry felt something―the closest to fear he had come in all the years since his early childhood. The daggers had changed, they were complete now; perfectly formed and radiating a different magical flavour from the rest of the collection. They seemed almost malevolent; gleaming in the pale sunlight creeping through the open doorway of his hut, contained within them the boy could feel the same power that was kept inside the Hybrid Harry Potter. These weapons were a mirror of himself, the epitome of him and he knew now that it must have cost Eleniel greatly to bring them into the being within the wards of the Forest for no Elf would ever allow these weapons here willingly. Hesitantly he reached out with both hands and brushed his fingers across the hilts of the daggers. An icy chill shot through his right arm, a burning heat through the other; he staggered back.

"Those blades are dangerous Potter. I trust you will be careful with their power." Eleniel had come into the door frame. Her eyes were dark and laden with hidden emotion as she watched him. For the first time Harry noticed that she looked tired, worn; he had never once seen her like that. Nothing had ever managed to make that much strain to be shown on her face. The boy glanced at the blades then nodded at his mentor and master. The Eldar Elf returned the nod with a sad expression and disappeared out the hut.

* * *

Elven Forest, United Kingdom

10:36am-May 18, 1991

Harry let out a pent up breath. He had been pacing for the past two hours and he really didn't care for that fact much. Eleniel's words had troubled him, she was as afraid of the blades as he was it seemed. Or she was afraid for him, either way it didn't matter much. He took a sheaf of silk, a larger gray sheet of it that he had folded months earlier and flicked it open. Moving fluidly and quickly Harry used the silk as a guard against the blades and sheathed the two weapons then wrapped them tightly in the silk, stowing them back within the shielded case of darkened wood.

He sighed slightly in relief, the presence of the magic daggers disappeared, dampened by the box. His gift was an interesting one; they seemed to battle against each other magically but at the same time meld and form a perfect set together. A near ironic play of a sort by Eleniel on his heritage; two vicious combatants destined to fight for eternity brought together to form the pinnacle of weaponry.

There was no time to reflect on these thoughts however. He had been unconscious for days but that was no excuse for missing his Rite. He would have to move on and complete the Hunt, attempting to try to bring honour to himself and his name. Or at least that was supposed to happen in Elven culture but he really wasn't a very big advocate for the Elves. They did, after all, basically hate him, for lack of a better term.

It wasn't as bad as he thought it might have turned out though. Considering he had a festering Demon of hatred and slaughter in his head, they had remained in the very least civil with him. He had gotten the occasional dark look from some of the Eldar Elves if he happened to see them and Arun the young male had begun to show, a certain . . . distaste for his presence. Though that may have been something else, hormones clung to the Elven boy as closely as their clothing.

Harry decided that he would complete the Rite. He would hunt something down, kill it, bring it back and do whatever else the culture of the Angels' soldiers required. It may not make any real difference in his standing but he could care less about their petty opinions. In the human world, the wizarding world, the Elves were nothing but legends and fables of fancy. Once he reached that place then whatever they thought of him would have no true bearing on him. They could be powerful allies or terrible enemies, though; he doubted many of them would come up against him. The only guarantee of that was Sylmae; she would never truly fight him despite their constant duels and she held rather amazing influence among her own kind.

Harry's musings were interrupted as Rothilion strolled casually into his hut. The two regarded each other silently, Elf and Hybrid. The easy going man watched him carefully, assessing him with emotionless eyes. Harry held his gaze and refused to waver in front of the creature that had all but raised him.

"Ah Harry you have come through in piece I see, perhaps a little worse for wear but the mark seems to have come out alright." The voice was light and cheerful but Harry could detect the notes of . . . something. It was getting more difficult to read the Elf each day. "I know what it is on your mind Harry; you desire to complete you Rite."

"If you and your people allow to me to do so I would."

"Of course Harry. As a Hybrid you are granted many concessions, a fact I'm sure you haven't missed," A smirk crept onto the Elf's perfectly symmetrical lips. "As tradition dictates you are allowed to take your bow with you as well as a single dagger," Rothilion's eyes flicked to the case containing Harry's newly gifted tools before he continued, "To be provided for you by one who trained with you."

_So he fears the daggers just as we all do. _Harry inclined his head silently and bracing his mind and body swiftly clicked open the case snatching up his bow, two strings for it and the arrows before snapping it closed. His stone like resolve was shaken from the burst of raw magic that had rained from the daggers but he held on, stringing his bow to keep busy.

"You may leave immediately to hunt for honour and prestige. Good luck young Hybrid, when you return, successful or not I wish to speak with you." Rothilion's voice was grave but he spared no time for response, opting to vanish out the door instead.

Harry looked at doorway for a time before moving out onto the sun dappled platform that held his hut up in the tall trees. However, the boy spared no time to admire the sweeping vista of the ancient tree-city, merely dropping of the end smoothly as he had done for years. At the bottom Sylmae waited expectantly her elegant features set in a hard mask of indifference. Harry took the proffered blade from her slim hands, allowing her touch to linger for but a moment.

'Expect me in back on the night three days from now,' were the only words Harry offered before taking off at a sprint into the forest heading north towards the hills. His magic unlocked on reflex bringing a mild glow to his eyes, lending greater speed to his pace. He slowed for nothing, leaping over streams and rivers and taking to trees to get over ravines and gullies. Miles disappeared beneath his feet and the forest became wilder and more unkempt, the bush thickened and the trees grew steadily larger until they were monolithic. Branches began to whip against Harry's body and the terrain became steeper.

Finally he let his sprint peter out slowly in a steep valley, rocks cast haphazardly about in a clearing illuminated with the dim light of dusk. The air was sparsely flavoured with tinges of dry soil, young green growth and a sour taste. Harry lifted his nose and scented the air fully. Drawing in the notes of the forest and the hills, he put a name to the sourness in the air; a remnant of a bear passing through. Perhaps it would be a cave bear―an ancient remnant of the monstrous and magical beasts used in the Wars so long ago and a magical species of the normal variety that had existed back in Neolithic times according to humans.

If so, then Harry had found a fine quarry for his Rite. Cave bears, modern cave bears, were very large and ferocious. The very largest of the species could tip the scales at more grand than the largest of mundane elephants. Paws that could crush a man without difficulty and batter about even Elves to point where it was only the brave or stupid of the Fair Folk who dared to attempt one. A thick coat of coarse tough hair (varied in color from bear to bear) covered a body armoured in leathery hide resistant to the elements and the piercing touch of an arrow. Muscle would be corded and dense beneath the skin and fur of the animal, a powerhouse of a creature mostly content to live off greenery and the occasional animal if the opportunity presented itself. However, cave bears were known for their viciousness and territorial behaviours among Elves and in legends among Wizarding Folk and in the past had raided early Elven settlements for food or for encroaching upon marked territory. Typically, though, now-a-days such creatures were rarely seen as they had moved up into more mountainous country for the abundance of the homes that gave them their names. Harry only had the knowledge he did through Elven literature and studies performed over the centuries. Nonetheless the boy had a healthy respect for the animal.

Following his nose the Hybrid confirmed his suspicion of the feces fouling the air. The guess of whether not it had been a bear had been exactly that; a guess. While bears of a mundane variety lived no longer on the Isle in the human areas, the swath of land that Elves had separated from the humans held home to both types of cave bear. This leaving however was not from a regular bear for it was larger than a small child and surrounded by deep monolithic tracks. The fecal matter appeared fairly fresh and no more than possibly two or three hours old.

The temptation to hunt was strong but even so logic said to wait until the sun was beginning to rise the next day. Harry was a creature of the night and operated well in the dark but no creature with slightest bit of reasoning would think that tracking a cave bear. If he were to find their cave and enter with intention on taking his prey then the danger would be multiplied many times over. Pissing off a cave bear was bad enough, waking one in its home and pissing it off was just stupid.

A flow of water ran down the length of the north-south running valley, barely enough to be considered a stream but enough to satiate the animals in the area. He was in the beginning of the valley, a narrow opening between two rather steep and large hills with just space for the large bear to slip through without having to climb the hill or get wet. To the left of the stream was where the thin strip of land used by animal was and just beyond that inside the valley was the clearing before the trees sprouted up hundreds of feet once more and where the bear had left sign.

Harry considered his options for the night. It would be unwise to lay exposed on the ground for his rest but the Elven tradition asked that no one alter the environment for their Rite so he could not build any sort of shelter. Any natural shelter in the area would likely be home to inhabitants already so he could not take that route if he wished to avoid a dominance battle and he did not want to cow some animal at this point in time. The trees were large and their branches thick; ample cover for a short rest before moving out to resume the hunt.

He chose a tree at random and bounded up into the branches, effortlessly climbing up eighty or so feet then removed his bow from across his back and the quiver of arrows with it. He took the time to remove the string from the strained wood and to check the fastenings on all his gear before setting them aside. Harry leaned back against the tree and closed his eyes, entering a calm meditative state to recover expended energy and prepare himself for the kill tomorrow.

* * *

Hidden Valley, Elven Forest

5:05am-May 19, 1991

Daylight cut the darkness. Harry rose up off the branch he had made camp on sparing time only to re-equip his weapons. He dropped of the tree to the compacted dirt of the clearing floor, checking the tracks once more. They headed north, deeper into the wild valley, quite possibly to the cave that would house the animal. The hunt would likely be short, cave bears were not nomadic so it would have a dwelling nearby in which to sleep.

The boy followed the bear. It had travelled into the forest, able to do so as the ancient trees in this part of the forest were spaced vast distances apart to allow for their girth and limbs to expand easily. Nature had found a way to foster and accommodate both the plant life and the life of animals comfortably. But even for such a large and heavy creature the bear left little signal of its passing once into the trees. The ground had lost the soft loamy coating that other areas had instead it took on a harder pack and light dusting of needles from the great trees. Harry had to search to find tracks, mostly relying on the long claws of the bear to cut into the soil every so often.

He followed the tracks all the way down the valley to the base of a particularly steep hill that made up the rear of said valley. All in all Harry estimated that the valley was around nineteen or twenty miles long and anywhere from nine to thirteen wide at any one point once fully inside. As it had turned out the stream widened farther in the valley to a respectable flow, fed by flows running in from around the great hills and could easily supply the water any animals in the surrounding area needed. It flowed down from several natural springs interspersed at the rear of the valley.

By the time the Hybrid reached the back of the valley the morning had reached full swing. Birds had risen and filled the air with their calls and singing, Harry had spotted some sheep of some sort moving on a distant rock outcropping on a hill and small creatures flitted through the undergrowth. All were wary of his passing for he was the apex predator being a Hybrid; he was the dominant force in their animal world not to be challenged except by the very strongest creatures. He could smell their fear and submission to him but also the aggressive dominance of the bear and the defiance of a band of local gargoyles.

The cave bear was his quarry, however the gargoyles could pose a problem depending on which variety they were. There were some varieties of the creatures that were relatively docile, preferring to avoid conflict in favour of living life peacefully. He could feel their eyes upon him though; these animals were some species with aggressive tendency. There was no way of telling which species it was, and therefore no way of guessing size while they worked to remain hidden but they were far more intelligent than the stone that rose during the night, the ones humans knew and they could sense his intention of challenging the bear. Harry had the animal instinct to know that alone the gargoyles could not beat the large bear (they lacked the ability to pierce the thick hide without weapons) but that they knew if he were to do so then the position of dominance would be opened as the boy would not stay in the valley.

Keen green eyes picked the gaping black opening of the cave set into the hillside next to a flow from tributary spring of the stream. The area reeked of cave bear; dirty musk and oppressively powerful breath stinking rotted plant life and meat. This bear was a big male and very dominant―guaranteeing he took what he wished in the valley from other predators and killed whatever fought against him. He knew taking the bear might prove difficult or easy; he was small and fast: difficult to hit, but small so it would be difficult to inflict real wounds.

Despite himself Harry was anxious. He had gone on many hunts, taken many animals without difficulty but this was different. His skin crawled for some unidentifiable reason and his heart leapt to his throat to sit there. Something was coming, something dark with malicious intention. He would have to make this quick and arrive back earlier than the three days he had given himself.

He drew the dagger from the sheath at his back, flipping over his hand into a reverse grip. Hesitating he shed his bow and the quiver, lying them next to a tree. Harry licked his dry lips, letting his fangs come forth from hiding and the claws on his hands expand. Then he vanished into the cave.

The stench was overwhelming but he pushed on. His eyes began to glow faintly with his night vision and though he could suppress it, there was no point. The cave was large, opening up to a long high ceilinged cavern after a short distance, falling back into a greater darkness deeper in. It was warm, stifling heat radiating off the monstrous mound of a body that rose and fell rhythmically in the back of the cavern. As he eased forward the great creature snorted loudly and shifted; the movement exposed its throat.

Harry paused, it seemed too easy. He waited, silver blade brought forward, gleaming in the pale light of his eyes. When nothing changed he crept forward towards the slumbering beast. The rough fur was a pale ginger red color, almost orange as far as he could tell. It thickened around the neck of the animal, growing in greater density and offering greater protection in a fight. It would do no good in this instance.

The cave bear lay on its side, thick corded neck stretched out before it. Dwarfed next to the animal, Harry moved quickly, urgency lent to his hands as the foreboding grew inside of him. A deep breath, a sharp movement and the creature roared terribly, snapped awake by the blade sinking into the flesh of its throat. It whipped a great paw up and slapped Harry away as blood leaked from the wound. Harry was thrown into a rock wall on one side, bouncing off the unyielding surface. The bear stood, seemingly unaffected by the hole that threw liquid from its throat.

It towered above Harry, a magnificent and angry creature of power. Face pulled into a terrible snarling scowl, saliva dripped freely from the tense jowls and dangerous looking yellow teeth that were longer than the dagger. Harry picked himself up and glared back at the black eyes, snarling as well. A great paw swiped at him, claws seeking his flesh with single-minded ferocity. He dived to the left side, stone exploding behind him as inherent magic sank deep into the cave wall.

Thunderous roars drowned out everything, blood and saliva coated the stone of the floor and its breath filled the air with reeking stench. Harry ignored all of this, focussing instead on getting close to the bear for another try at its life. He shot up clawing his way into the fur coating a shoulder of the slower cave bear. It spun its head around to snap at Harry and recoiled sharply a second line of blood slashed across its face with the silver dagger. Harry's frustration grew; he had meant for the fight to be quick not a drawn out confrontation. He dropped down from the shoulder and rolled between the creature's legs.

The bear shook its head, stamping its feet; trying to crush him. It whipped its head around biting the air he would have occupied before he flipped backward. Not to be discouraged the beast charged at him, forcing his back to the wall. Harry's arms thrust up to catch the head beneath the jaw, pushing it high enough to miss him and crack into the stone. He wove his left hand into the thicker fur at its neck and swung himself to straddle the bear's neck, gripping tightly while it roared.

He immersed himself in the fur while the bear thrashed its head around trying to shake him free. His eyes flared and the dagger plunged deep into the soft spot behind the ear of nearly all mammals. The bear roared again, its jaw bone scraping against the blade. Harry dropped off his perch and dragged the wicked blade down with him through hide and flesh. A gaping wound opened, pouring hot blood out and slathering Harry in the thick red liquid. This time the roar was weak and the animal staggered away from Harry.

A river of blood flowed freely from the grievous as the cave bear stumbled around, spattering more fiery hot fluid over the cave. Harry stood full, squaring his shoulders and watching the bear die. The battle had been cold, he had sequestered away any part of him that might react emotionally; any anger or sadness or exultation at the kill. There was no glory in this, only the Elves practising a barbaric ritual that did not accomplish any true goals; only making more competition in the younger Elves. This was pathetic and he was disgusted in it but it was necessary to get away from them. Somehow he knew that he had to do this.

His thoughts returned the bear, the creature still valiantly staggering around as great volumes of blood continued to drain from it. The animal knew it was dying, Harry could sense the primal thoughts of it, though they were little more than vague sensations; gleaned through a combination of natural Legilimency and the primordial bond he shared with all animals. Silently he acknowledged the great respect he had for the animal and its desire to die in the open air. Through sheer force of will it was still managing to meander towards the light gleaming in through the cavern opening.

The great cave bear, now no more than a walking corpse burst into the fresh air and sunlight, fell forward several steps and collapsed heavily. Harry emerged from the darkness of the underground complex, striding alongside the still warm body. The black eyes were already glazing over as the last dredges of warmth and lingering life leeched away. He glanced around spotting some greenery that had sprouted from the nutrients of the spring. Harry picked several sprigs of the plant, a pleasant smelling sweet grass of some sort, after which he forced open the mouth of the bear and slipped the grass in. It was his last tribute of respect to the animal, followed by a few words of thanks (a practise Harry had developed after many hunts).

Abruptly his raised his head, sniffing the air. Harry's lips pulled back, a low growl forming in his throat. The gargoyles that had been tracking his movements emerged from the line of trees eighty or so feet away. There were a surprising amount of the voracious predators in the single band; Harry quickly counting about twenty three animals. A large pack for such volatile animals as fanged gargoyles and that is what they were. A species that had been mildly civil with the Goblins for use in the early civil wars and in Scotland during the Goblin Rebellion of 1612, mercenaries working for pay; fanged gargoyles were large heavy set creatures, 8 feet tall, coated in blacked plates.

There had once been many types of gargoyles, from the most sinister fanged to the gentle lowland but humans and wizards both had worked to exterminate the creatures for fear of the proclivity of some to work for the most resource. Nearly all species were large, knowing little of stealth but they were distantly descendent of the Demons, shared blood with the Hybrid that now stood before the creatures. The fanged ones in particular had held on to most the vicious ancestry, having a penchant for reveling in blood and killing. They were powerful, relentless and born killers truly the closest relation left on Earth to the Demons of old except for the Vampires. These hadn't inherited the wings of the Demons, only a single species did, but they were fast, strong and surprisingly agile despite their size. Often inhabiting rocky mountainous areas with caves, they were naturally gifted in climbing. They weren't incredibly intelligent but enough so that they wanted for more advanced weapons and materials for shelter than claws and teeth, and living in the elements. If one had the correct capabilities simple communication could be made.

Nine gargoyles stalked forward, males all with long heavy arms and thickly built muscle, massive powerful hands flexing. Most were darker colors; muted grey, blacks and browns, some striped with feint patterns. Yellow, red and black eyes glared at him from the line, creeping slowly forward on hard padded feet, slight tremulous impacts easily heard. Vapour burst sharply from nostrils set into a broad humanoid noses, the jets rushing down over thin lips drawn back into snarls showcasing interlocked and viciously sharp teeth.

One animal padded forth ahead of the others; larger than the others and with a gruesome scar of four deep lines cut deep into his face, removing his left eye. They were few weaknesses on the hard glossy armour of the creatures, the thick plates guarded against almost all attack with only slight creases in the neck, underarms and behind the knees. He cut an imposing figure, dirty nails sharpened on rocks over years, both on the fingers and four toed feet. For all the damage to the gargoyle's face he was in his prime and clearly the leader, the Alpha of the band.

The gargoyle leapt forward, bounding across the distance easily and while Harry had no wish to fight and possibly injure such rare beasts he dropped into a defensive crouch. He was frustrated, the boy had no time for foolish contests with ancient beings in the forest; something was going on elsewhere―his instincts demanded a return to the Elves. The two Alphas met with a tremendous clash, Harry's clawed fingers gouging slightly into the impossibly hard armor while ragged fingers bit into his skin as best they could. The boy threw his weight sideways, hauling the heavier creature with him and tossing them both the dirt. They broke the deadly embrace, a black hand swung at him, Harry ducked and lunged forward, throwing the gargoyle back. It staggered but recovered quickly, narrowing its eyes and snarling at him.

A rigid hand thrust toward him. With an imperceptible movement Harry sidestepped the wicked attack, twisting his body as to be only grazed by the broken nails. The boy rolled his body past the beast, swiftly taking position behind it. His fist cracked hard into the small of the gargoyle's back, forcing the warrior down; Harry wrapped powerful arms around its neck and squeezed.

Without hesitation Harry's adversary clenched roughly onto his arm trying to break the iron grip. Harry squeezed all the harder, wrenching its neck back and forth, twisting the whole body of the beast. Forcibly the boy dragged the monster backward quickly slamming the creature to the ground. His hand held it down and as cruel yellow eyes glared back into flaring green ones; Harry's mind engulfed the primitive consciousness of the gargoyle.

_FLASH  
_

_Gritty dust covered his dark armour, sticking to the saliva left behind by his bloodkin. It was sun-high and the great ball of fire burned brightly above his sizeable head. He rolled to his feet and bolted after larger-bloodfriend, chasing the cub around the clearing. He crashed onto larger-bloodkin's back and they both tumbled over the ground, stopping against the large hard flank of grey-Alpha. Grey-Alpha snapped upright and snarled explosively at him. He and larger-bloodkin whimpered and shied away immediately, grey-Alpha chasing after them swinging great arms._

_FLASH  
_

_He watched grey-Alpha and adult-band-members sprinting behind the deer-prey. He trailed behind, trying to stay out of the way of the prey-hunt while learning the stalk-chase. He had survived the two-moon-too-young phase and could finally watch prey-hunt. Larger-bloodkin had been taken by great-bear-giant a moon earlier along with mother-blood; great-bear-giant had taken the band-cave. Since then other adult-band-members had made certain he was kept alive. _

_Grey-Alpha leaped atop the first deer-prey biting its neck, black-grey weight dragging it down. Other adult-pack-members killed other deer-prey and he trotted over to a deer-prey a she-kin had taken. He scented the deer-prey and tentatively tore a chunk of the meat that had been exposed by the she-kin. Warm deer-prey-taste filled his nose and mouth, life-water smearing on his fur. The remaining smaller-kin and she-kin came up behind him and they too took their first of deer-prey-taste._

_FLASH_

_He bent to shred some of the pig-prey, crunching down through the tough leather-skin. A deep anger-growl distracted him and he raised his head. Grey-Alpha glared back at him, teeth bared and walked forward. He snarled back, challenging Alpha-dominance of the grey-Alpha. The eyes widened and grey-Alpha charged him, slamming into his shoulder and pushing him off the kill. Razor-claws cut into his neck and he backed off, life-water leaking from his wound. He dropped his shoulders submitting, shuffling away._

_There came a loud-tree-noise and all the pack stopped. They scented the air and every pack-member turned to run at the musk-aggression-scent of the great-bear-giant. The creature charged from the forest and the pack-members scattered. He dodged away trying to flee but his neck-hurt slowed him. Thunder-ground-noise was behind him and he looked. A great-claw-paw flew at him and piercing-pain ripped through his face. Black-sleep overtook him and he slipped away._

_FLASH_

_He sniffed the air and stalked forward slowly. Meat-rot-scent filled the air and he followed it, finally finding the scale-remain of grey-Alpha. The former-Alpha had great-bear-mark on him and not much was left but bones. He looked through his single-seeing-eye at the remains and after a kicked ground-dust over it. It was he who had Alpha-dominated the grey-exile. _

_He had bit deep into grey-Alpha's neck and let the life-water flood his mouth. His hand had been planted on the old-Alpha's shoulder, his razor-claws digging in. Grey-Alpha had left with terrible neck-hurt and limping-gait; the old gargoyle was now grey-exile. He was now black-Alpha, he had Alpha-dominance now. The band-members bowed their heads to him._

_FLASH_

Harry pulled out of the gargoyle's memories sharply. That was the first time he had ever consciously used Legilimency on anyone. He was surprised that anything had actually made it through seeing as the minds of a gargoyle and a Hybrid were considerably different. Even so the images were garbled and convoluted so much as too make them hard to comprehend. He twisted the animals neck slightly and forced it into a submissive gesture; grinding its nose into the dirt.

The boy snarled loudly at the other gargoyles then stared back into the Alpha's eyes. He forced several impressions into its mind.

/_Hybrid dark-Alpha/Former-black-Alpha black-beta/Great-bear-giant-cave now band-den/_

The gargoyle tried to avoid looking directly into Harry's brightly glowing green eyes. However, it had little choice when Harry wrenched sharply on its head. A single yellow eye looked into two emerald ones and showed understanding. Then something unexpected happened.

_/Understand/Black-beta/Hybrid/Alpha/_

It could project its thoughts! How or why that could even be possible completely eluded Harry at the moment but he would study it later, gargoyles had simple vocal communication but the mid arts had always been thought to elude the creatures. The feeling of foreboding was very insistent now, a presence pushing on the outside of his mind and urging him to get moving. He stood, letting the gargoyles―now his Beta―stand even as the rest of the band walked forth. The males approached first, leading the way for the females and their cubs to join the band.

A particularly inquisitive young cub with dark blue-black plates of scaled armor bounded forward and stopped to stand in front of him, head cocked to one side. It then scampered forward to poke at his soft skin curiously only to be headed off with vicious mercilessness by the new Beta. Harry shot into action, slamming into the gargoyle's shoulder with a hand, causing it to fall away before it could touch the cub. The Beta rolled to its knees and looked at him. The feeling tugged at his mind again.

_/Alpha leave/Return later/Cave pack-home/Leave great-bear-giant where lies/_

This time Harry projected the thought to all members of the pack. As he now expected, the feeling of consent came from the whole congregation of war wolves. Harry swept his gaze over them one last time, and then disappeared in black Abyssal magic.

* * *

Elven Forest, United Kingdom

11:39am-May 19, 1991

Harry burst into existence in his shack. It was as he left it but strangely the city of Elves was quiet; it was always quiet but that was a more peaceful quiet, this was something different. It felt almost as if they were being purposefully quiet. Quiet thudding footsteps travelled along one of the beams that ran off of the platform of his shack. Harry appeared at the doorway in a fraction of a second, fast enough to catch Sylmae as she ran.

He grabbed her arm and spun her around. Her hair was frazzled, rare for an Elf, her face was flushed and her bow was grasped tightly in her hand. The quivers slung on her back swung from the force of her stop and Harry looked into her eyes.

"Vampires! They're through the wards at the pool! Eleniel and my father are mustering some forces while holding back the waves. Harry, there's more than they can handle."

Harry's eyes glowed fiercely. Without a word he vanished into the hut once more, emerging but a few seconds later fully clothed in tough specially made silk garments with the daggers on his hips, his bow lay forgotten in the valley with the wolves. Sylmae flinched at the magic from the daggers but said nothing turning to run to the pool and the outskirts of the city. Harry enveloped her with his arms sharply and spun, drawing upon the Abyss.

They appeared with a soft billow of magic, Harry releasing the Elf girl and charging over the water to the clearing. He drew the powerful weapons, fully embracing the Hybrid transformation and examined the battle. Surging droves of Vampires armed with simple swords poured in through an arch shaped hole in the glimmering wards. Eleniel was combating a group with a spear and Rothilion was rapidly firing a bow at everything he could land sights on. Vampire blood already soaked the ground and the bodies were piling up.

The Demon rose up inside causing Harry to roar darkly in challenge. He shot across the clean part of the battle field and crashed into the line of Vampires with unbridled fury. Immediately two went down, clutching gaping wounds to their necks and Harry worked himself into a group of Bloods. The bloodied daggers gleamed in a red light, plunging deep into skulls.

Harry spun low, sweeping the weapons through tendons and pouncing upon the fallen foes. A Vampire leaped atop him but he tore it free and ripped its chest in two. His weapons sliced through skin, muscle and bone downing another five of the invaders. A sword of steel bounced off his ribs, he cut the hand holding it free of the body. A burst of black and Harry vanished from the center of a hoard to show up again, blades sunk fully in the backs of more Vampires.

His grip reversed, downing Vampires coming up behind his back. The boy sheathed his blades, reaving away an opponent's face with his claws. The blood sprayed over Harry, dripping down into his mouth; awakening a terrible beast within. Soon he saw nothing but red as Vampire after Vampire fell beneath his unstoppable fury; limbs flew, blood squirted forth from ruptured veins, entrails slid free from bodies. Harry was consumed in his battle.

One tried to break free past him but his hand caught the creature across the face and with a jerk its skull exploded in his powerful grip. Harry shook the gore from his hand, and shot into two more Bloods tearing their hearts free. Flipping forward he caught a third with his heel, crushing it into the soaked ground. Systematically the Hybrid vanished and reappeared in black mist to kill then vanish again and rip apart more. Once again his daggers were drawn and he came from a black cloud spinning, parallel to the ground with blades leading. A Vampire fell, torso completely separated from its legs, Harry landing crouched beyond it.

By this time the hole in the wards had widened though the tide of Vampiric soldiers slowed nearly to nothing. A monster of a Vampire emerged from the portal, eight feet of rippling muscle bound mass. Its head flat and hairless, tiny black eyes glinting above two slits for a nose and a mouth full of filed teeth. Harry had stopped thinking and resorted acting on pure instinctual rage, feasting on the blood of the undead. Thus he did not notice the giant Blood come forth―battering its way through its brethren―as he raged his way through three more of the creatures. It grasped him in a huge hand, fingers tipped in dirty broken nails sharp as any blade.

The boy was sheared way from his gluttonous feed and tossed across the field. He skated across the dirt, his body blowing through several other Vampires in pink mist on the way. He splashed into the pool of water roughly. The thudding steps of the monster made their way to near the edge of the pool but as it approached tendrils of black Abyssal magic exploded into the air from the water. Like tentacles they struck at the Vampire, forcing their way into its skin and any orifice they could find. Mouth, ears, eyes, nose filled with the dark energy until in a bloody climax the thing's skin split apart and it fell dead.

The boy strode from the shallow depths of the water, dripping wet hair draped over his face. The remaining Vampires were fleeing, only one staying in contest with Eleniel as the others ran back past the limits of the broken wards. Harry puffed away and drove his left blade into a running Vampire's head. He spun quickly and while the abyssal magic was still curling around him he whipped his other blade out, throwing it at a Vampire running toward the back of Eleniel while she still fought on with a skilled opponent.

Unexpectedly the energy exuded from the dagger wrapped black tendrils around the weapon and flew straight and true. The blade blasted straight through the Vampire, leaving a cavernous round hole pouring blood behind. It continued to fly straight, Harry watching in stunned fascination and horror as his gift struck the back of the very one who forged it. Sinking to the hilt, Eleniel arched her back in pain and collapsed to the ground, the dagger embedded deep within her.


	8. Part I: Chapter 8

**A/N: Important:: **_been a long time since I updated, on that note before reading this you may with to reread the entire story; I have changed certain sections in past chapters. To those who waited so patiently, I apologize profusely. I ran into some serious writer's block and rewrote this chapter multiple times trying to find a way to work it how I wanted . . .didn't get there but this is as good as it gets for this section. After writer's block I spent two months wondering around Europe, never went to the UK though because I couldn't afford it._

_Started writing a lot when I got back and I actually have the next two and half chapters finished after this one for this story. Finally made it to bloody Hogwarts, thousands of words later than I meant for it to happen. Now I have writer's block once more trying to work out the beginning of First Year and introducing all of the human characters and how Harry will relate to them. Tonks is coming soon! Don't know how to do her either . . .Any ideas anyone? But otherwise it's coming along, I have vague ideas for future conflicts and twists but I'm getting stuck on the political side of Harry as well._

_Originally this Chapter was to not include several thousand words concerning the POVs of several Elves but i put them in there anyways for a bit of variety. To those who reviewed, thank you. I'm sorry for not getting back to some of you when I should have._

_To briefly answer a few of you. . . I will not be throwing Harry into cliched inheritance tests or massive gains from multiple families._

_I have gone back and remolded some sections into more original pieces; I hadn't intended for it to borrow from Paolini or anyone else but I frankly could not invent some other creature for Harry to battle and I have changed the wolves; too cliched, I rushed that piece but have now put more thought into it (thanks for setting me onto that Olorin, honestly hadn't considered how badly I pulled Inheritance's concept). That has been changed into an entirely new creature now with my own invented background and species etc, more on that later._

_As for the 'voices' they are not extensions of Harry's conscience but rather two separate consciences within him coexisting in a violent balance, I thought I had mentioned that somewhere but perhaps not. They were intended to be far more prevalent than what they have become initially but that changed fairly early on. I should probably edit chapter two to reflect this but I likely won't. In the future there will be small interactions within which Harry deals with the two sides of his bloodline internally and they will influence some of his actions and interactions through their presence. The actual voice aspect of them won't be very frequent anymore, a few rare occasions of high stress perhaps_

_Harry has remained wary of the Elves since joining them, the exception perhaps being Sylmae. He is mature enough after having been touched so profoundly by magic to understand that his revenge rests on the training they would provide for him. He doesn't trust anyone, not entirely and this will be a part of Harry for many years. He himself will be abusive and cruel in certain instances, he is callous and solely focused on his goals with a great intensity. He cares for no one, only his justice._

_Anyways this story is long in need of the update so without further ado (this is for you Joe) her is chapter 8 of Blood Lines:_

* * *

**Blood Lines**

**Part I**

**Chapter 8**

* * *

Elven Forest, United Kingdom

11:50am-May 19, 1991

Eleniel slumped downward in near slow motion before Harry's eyes. He found the scene horrifying, stunningly fascinating and felt within himself just the slightest amount of smug satisfaction. The Demon quieted and the green glow in his eyes darkened into the faint ambiance that always was present. Harry became himself again and he launched into action, materializing at his Ekara's side to catch her. The dagger swirled with the macabre energy, corrupting the skin around the wound to leave only blackened flesh.

He held the Elf steady, gripping the hilt of the weapon. Harry didn't fail to notice the oily black harmlessly seeping from the handle into his skin, leaving the Eldar's body alone. The blade slid free from the unconscious victim easily enough but gouts of blood flowed after it. The Elven blood was the first to be spilt in such volume by an ally outside of training since the race had taken residence in the forest. Harry felt an incredible urge to lap at the wound, Eleniel's blood being the most potent he had ever consumed. The boy only managed to force the urge away because of his feast earlier; something as tempting as fresh Eldar blood was difficult to turn from.

Even so Harry pressed his hand to the deep stabbing beneath Eleniel's shirt, stemming the torrent. The blade had bit deep very near the spine. This made it a serious wound, potentially mortal or maiming but Harry didn't have enough experience to make the call. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind as he tried to come up with solutions to the problem he faced. Rothilion had evacuated himself back across the pool near the beginning of the slaughter but Eleniel had stayed behind at her own peril. The Elves were emerging from the forest but they refused to move, standing at the edge of the water.

As the blood was soaking against his hand it drew the urge up again but with it came another strange feeling. As surprised as Harry was he could feel that the feeling was summoned by the knowledge of his Ekara being so badly injured. The warmth from it travelled down his arm, its source being the core of his body. It became hotter slowly, making way to the center of his palm where it began to burn fiercely. Harry wasn't as stunned as he normally would be having accepted that his heritage provided him with many oddities. White-gold light, coiling around his hand, like a light twin of the blackness, started to enter the area of plagued skin surrounding the wound.

Harry pulled his hand away minutely, leaving his finger tips in contact around the deadened area. The light absorbed into the fair Elven skin and restored its perfection from the desolating power of the Abyssal magic. Even the crevasse left in her back from the blade stopped leaking as the magic went to work. Instinct, as it often did, told Harry that this was what the warning his matron had addressed; this was the Angelic side of his magic reacting to the injury he had caused.

Gently he laid Eleniel down and turned, standing to face the creatures that had raised him for the past four years of his life, they and the Dursleys (he thought of the name with hatred) had created him. They, and the Dursleys, hated him. Of course the Muggle relatives of his mother had begun to hate him immediately after his arrival and had worked him as a slave within two years. The Elves however had welcomed him at first, at least until his magic had begun to influence him and strengthen.

Harry's eyes swept over them. He did not hate them; they were fools who had wanted to use him in their war. It was in fact a war that should have ended with the deaths of the Demon and Angel and the creation of the First; that was the whole point of the creation of the Hybrids in the first place. To end a terribly bloody and destructive war had been a noble thing but the Elves and Vampires had kept on the battle. Whatever motivated the battles at first had most likely been loyalty to their respective creators but now there was something else. He didn't know what but most of the Elves seemed to.

The black flecked green eyes that the Hybrid had acquired with his first full transformation locked onto the amber orbs of the Elf girl who had trained with him. She was gazing at him with horror; his naked blood covered torso rising and falling slowly as he breathed, simple shirt having been ripped off during the battle. He knew then that she would never look at him the same. They had been near friends with each other, their banter was one few things Harry had ever enjoyed in his life. The boy had admitted to himself long ago that he found her attractive, his eleven years held no bearing on his maturity at this point. He of course had never wanted her to see him as he truly was, for while he held no desire or hope of any form for a relationship with the girl he hadn't wished to lose her in such a way that he would were she to see his true nature.

The Demon had at several moments while it had been inside of him urged for sexual release using the girl. Early on in its decline it had filled his head with images of sex and rape, thoughts that had made his body react; Harry personally reacted only to the consensual visions of it though for he had read much of the horrors committed in the Muggle populated concentration camps of Gellert Grindelwald during the Worldwide Wizarding War when he had manipulated Muggles into exterminating each other while stealing hundreds of women for rape and at the hands of Death Eaters (he had no desire to rape anyone but the Demon revelled in it all). With only force of will Harry had refrained from losing himself to any of those visions. He avoided any closeness with Sylmae out of want for her protection as well as his own reluctance for any form of mutual relationship. After all he didn't even like the student/master dynamic between himself and Ekara-Eleniel.

He broke eye contact with the girl, blinking, and found Rothilion. The Elven Lord, Harry had indeed discovered that Rothilion was some sort of Lord in the King's court, was working with a group to launch a long light weight canoe-like boat into the pool. Harry had never met the King or any of the other members of the supposed court. He had only found out about Rothilion through a piece of a scroll he had read detailing signals of respect given to such members. The boy had then noticed that Rothilion was treated with the exact manner that the Court Members would be. In addition to the Elven Lord status of the man, Rothilion was also relegated into the ranks of Eldar just a few months ago. It had turned out that the Elf had reached a millennium in age and as such was given the first ranking of Eldar.

Through more manuscripts Harry had found that at one thousand years old an Elf was given a Fourth Seat in the Eldar Council, at twenty-five hundred years a Third Seat, three thousand a Second Seat and finally upon the unanimous vote of the Council one could reach the revered First Seat of an Elf such as Eleniel. Currently only the master Elf woman held such a coveted position. The first three rankings signified different stages in Elven maturity much the same as the physical maturing stages of young Elves did. What purpose the Eldar held was a great secret of the Elven people and he was kept in the dark with most of the rest of the race (he knew they did advise the King in some manner, affiliating themselves with complicated politics). They had hidden much from him, Harry wasn't blind he had noticed that the true name of this city he was in had been hidden from him. Great knowledge had been kept from the boy, he had no illusions as to what he knew, it was all hidden in secrecy; he had been guided and directed in his learning. Though, he did had suspicions that Eldars were the caretakers of all knowledge of the collective race, that small groups of them operated in every Elven settlement and held communication through magic and that they had more secrets of magic and the past than any other entity. But it was only a suspicion.

He watched the Elf as they made ready the vessel. When their eyes met they regarded each other. Then with absolute silence Harry vanished with the Abyssal magic sweeping up after him.

* * *

Elven Forest, United Kingdom

10:36am-May 18, 1991

Rothilion paused slightly before walking into the hut that had housed Harry Potter for the time he had lived among the Elven people. The boy had made incredible progress to becoming a fully realized Hybrid. The Elf had reservations however; the boy had darkness in him. He had hoped that perhaps it was his own imagination that had created what he thought he was seeing but it wasn't. There was something about Harry that wasn't quite right, even with the Demon inside of him there was a deeper hatred in the boy. He understood that it was to be expected considering all that the Hybrid had been forced through with his parents, relatives and now with the Elves. That still didn't do much to reassure the Elven Lord.

He couldn't help but examine the boy, the person he had held much hope for; indeed he still had hope. Rothilion remembered when the boy, more a young man than anything now, had arrived with his daughter in tow. He had been shy, timid even at first; but more than eager to learn anything he could. It seemed at the time that even the abuse he had suffered had not smothered his enthusiasm. If anything that abuse made him more determined to prove himself. Perhaps it could be expected, perhaps not; to be crushed down under the boot of human ignorance and bigotry surely would have made the boy wary, suspicious and frightened but he had been strong, resilient and powerful. In part, clearly, this was due to his Hybrid heritage.

They had observed him as he grew. There were certain reluctances about him to interact with other Elves, brought on no doubt through the introverted and isolated human life Harry had been living. His short life was a brutal one and that reflected in the boy. He was a vicious man; coldly moving with great confidence on a field of battle or in single combat, and his control of magic had begun with amazing power that had only sharpened with experience. His mind was a finely honed weapon of logic. His body had been trained to be perfect. Everything about him was striving for perfection.

That perfection had come at a cost, for the boy, whatever the Elf may try for a remedy, was emotionally stunted. He was, without a doubt, dead to the world around him. That worried Rothilion deeply; would Harry be able to deal with war as he was? Or would he deal with it too well and become a soulless killing machine? Technically he was already a killing machine but Harry Potter was far from soulless. He had three beings existing within him; the Angel, a deity of good and love, the Demon, a creature of hatred and violence, and lastly Harry, the human boy thrust into extraordinary circumstances. Rothilion was hopeful that human part of Harry, the part of the entity before him that felt emotion, would win out in the end.

He spoke to the boy. Trying with great effort to keep the dread entering his voice, his despair and worry that Harry was fading away. Those blasted daggers couldn't be helping matters in anyway. Eleniel had decided the boy had need of something akin to himself, something to reflect what he was. He didn't understand the reasoning behind giving the boy two weapons that utilized the same magic he was forbidden from. Rothilion actually thought there was more that Ekara-Eleniel was not telling him about the weapons but he couldn't press. She was far more influential than he was, even with his long time friendship with the King.

There were things he had to discuss with the young man when he returned from the Rite. Rothilion knew that Harry would wish to complete that ceremony in Elven culture, if only for Sylmae. He had to speak to the Hybrid about his daughter, he had no wish for the Hybrid and Sylmae to mix to intimately; the shaky friendship-like relation was already pushing it. He wanted to make sure Sylmae was guarding her heart; her position was very rare among Elves, where those who had been born around her were maturing before herself. She had little choice but to wait until her maturity, even as her mind was fully ready to begin exploring partners. To some degree it gave the Elven Lord hope for the boy, there was a soft spot in his heart for Sylmae, the only one he held for any living thing There were other issues to speak to Harry about as well, like the politics that were causing problems with the boy's presence.

He left Harry in his single room hut. Despite the amount of time he had spent in that dwelling the boy seemed to not wish to decorate at all. He had placed his weapons next to his bed, near at hand, and the shelves that had been magically created shortly after he arrived were filled with crystalline bottles of blood.

Rothilion found Eleniel a while later. His former Ekara was standing at that same clearing where they had begun to train the Hybrid. He walked up behind her, "Things are moving quickly now, Eleniel." He spoke in Elven as they had trained Harry to.

"We always knew they would my friend. Potter is behaving erratically and has angered certain Eldars with his lack of control. His powers are evolving too quickly and the strength of those souls is too much."

"What do you want to do? I plan to speak to the boy but I can only do so much. You crafting those blades didn't help the matter in the least."

Eleniel's eyes flashed, "I felt a need to create those weapons Rothilion, just as the magic called to you to retrieve the boy that short time ago, it called to me to forge those instruments. I did just as you; do not dare to speak to me in that matter!"

"Of course, Ekara, I apologize for any affront." He paused before continuing, "Still we have to decide on a course of action. As you said the Eldars are getting antsy and the King is becoming tired of the disturbances."

"I have a feeling things will be changing very soon, Rothilion. You are still young; you haven't developed or trained yourself to sense things that are coming. Now if you'll excuse me I have some things to attend to." Without waiting for a response the ancient Elf walked away abruptly into the forest.

The man sighed. As usual his former master was correct. She was always correct. Well he couldn't stand on the sidelines and wait for things to happen as they would. Eleniel may be able to do that, but after so many millennia she had grown used to the passage of time bringing about results. He liked to take action, to affect things before they came to pass.

Rothilion returned to the city proper and walked along the pathways considering what he would say. It was only hours later he had made something of a decision. He began to compile certain necessities; if everything was going to work out then he'd need to have everything prepared beforehand. He could make it all ready for the boy, give him a chance.

* * *

Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts

2pm-April 30, 1991

Dumbledore gazed out the single large window that afforded him a view of the Quidditch Pitch. Moisture gathered in his eyes as he contemplated the fate of Harry Potter. The wizard was over one hundred years old but he couldn't help but wonder if Harry Potter would have played Quidditch in the air above that pitch. Would he have played chaser just as well as he would seeker? Just as his father had before him? Would he have excelled in Transfiguration? Or Charms? He might have been brash but popular like James or quiet and reserved but with a flaming temper as Lily. So many unanswered questions plagued the man.

In but three short months the First Year class of 1991 would arrive at Hogwarts. They had never found the missing hero. Even after the two years he had stopped actively searching, feelers were kept stretched out in every possible direction to find the boy. Against all logic Albus had kept searching in vain. The new batch of eager young minds would arrive, one and all itching to learn magic, all wondering if Harry Potter would be with them. Or perhaps they would be filled with despair and sadness that the greatest hero of their age was not there to experience magic with them. It was very likely what with the Daily Prophet having printed the story of the Boy-Who-Died.

Albus looked to his desk, the clipping of the article lying there. He had taken it from his copy sent through subscription as soon as it had arrived. He would keep it to remind him of the mistakes even the most experienced make. Subconsciously his eyes found the words once again torturing himself with the cold truth of his failure.

_Boy-Who-Lived Declared a Dead Man_

_By Rita Skeeter_

_The unthinkable has come to pass dear readers. After two years of searching and holding out the Ministry and Department of Magical Law Enforcement (DMLE) have officially declared Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, Saviour of the Wizarding World, deceased. Late last night on the date of January 25, 1991 Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge, together with the DMLE Head Amelia Bones signed the papers signifying that the single most famous member of Magical Britain, besides perhaps the renowned Albus Dumbledore, is dead._

_No longer will the Ministry be searching for signs of Harry Potter, and it is known that Headmaster Dumbledore has halted in his search, in both the Muggle world and our own. This is not the end though readers, in this reporter's opinion our beloved Harry may still be out there and so I implore you to keep an eye out for any sign of him. We must hold out hope that he is alive and well, and should he read this I ask he reveal himself. We need you back Harry._

_Albus Dumbledore was unavailable for comment at this time. One cannot help but think about what has to be going through the mind of the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The guilt must weigh heavily upon our revered Chief Warlock's soul but we must not hold it against him. He placed Harry Potter in a home with his Muggle relatives and trusted that they would keep him safe until such time as he would attend Hogwarts._

_The Potter scion vanished without a trace, no magic was able to detect anything―beyond those two Apparitions mentioned in previous articles―around the Muggle neighborhood where Potter had been placed. Thus it is no fault of Dumbledore's that the boy has not been found. By what method the Boy-Who-Lived disappeared is largely unknown except for a single Disapparition from the location, which ended in a forest outside of the city of London. I would request that you Witches and Wizards of Britain do not hold Dumbledore responsible; we need him more than ever now._

The article was a strange piece. Rita Skeeter, why she had only graduated from Hogwarts no more than a few decades ago and yet she had wasted no time in her fiery career of journalism. Not long after she left the school her first book had been published, an . . . interesting piece if nothing else though Albus himself had found much of what had been said about his friend Armando Dippet to be untrue. The girl had always had talent with bending the truth, molding it to her needs but my, she had a flair for writing. This piece was not as piercing as her previous works, in fact all the article she had had published by the daily Prophet to do with Potter had been mysteriously kind and tepid. Was there some method behind her change of heart?

* * *

Elven Forest, United Kingdom

11:28am-May19, 1991

"Father!" Sylmae burst into his study without warning. She looked both frightened and determined.

"Sylmae? What's going on?" Rothilion had closed the tome he had been studying and leaned back in his simple chair. He had spent much time many years ago, centuries ago, with Sylmae's mother, making their home together after they had coupled. The study had been part of it, a personal library for the two of them to share; three after Sylmae had been born.

The main structure of the house was situated around a great tree, several levels of wood blended with magic to create their home. The study had been their pride and joy; carved out of the center of the tree it was a large cylindrical room, the heart of the building. Along the walls sweeping shelves were filled to the brim with various books, scrolls and tomes from Elven, Wizarding and Muggle kind; all collected to emulate the Grand Library the Elves had formed. Tall thin pillars of strengthened wood were spaced evenly apart around the walls, intricately carved with vines, animals and other representations of life. These pillars separated the different categories of books as they had been designed with such purpose. The floor had been polished with both magic and years of bare feet padding over it, the darkly coloured wood was only obscured by a large desk. It was as plain as any other desk, though more a table than anything, Rothilion used it often. He had used it last night to prepare for the boy.

"Father, something was detected at the wards. Your presence is requested urgently; the Watch believes it may be Vampires." Sylmae watched him anxiously as she spoke.

Immediately the Elven Lord began to move, the seriousness of what this could be was far more than the Watch realized. Bloods would never move against them without His help and a substantial force. He stood and grabbed his bow of white wood―the color had been leeched out with magic―and a full quiver of arrows, "Go get Eleniel and inform her of the situation. Tell her I sent you and that she is needed as soon as possible."

"What's the―"

"Sylmae go now! This is far more dire than you know," he snapped at her.

Sylmae shut her mouth and glared at him for a moment before doing as he commanded. Rothilion sighed and shook his head; he would have to deal with her later. He started to run; sprinting toward the only conceivable place where the Bloods could attack, the only place He would know they might have a chance. After mere minutes he arrived, his expertise of moving among the network of suspended pathways aiding him. There were two Elves waiting there for him, they were the Watch; the guard Elves trusted with the monitoring of the wards and borders to their sanctuary in the UK.

He didn't have any chance to assess what was happening however, there was deep rumbling and then a void appeared a ways away from the pool. The pool gave the Elves every aquatic magical plant or mundane plant that one could want for any number of applications. It in itself was a beautiful scenic addition to the outer limits of the Elven City but aside from the produce it supplied it also served as the major traffic area for Elves leaving the forest or returning. The void widened forming a tall archway and revealing glimpses of a sizeable Vampiric battle group beyond.

Rothilion methodically unhitched his bow from around his shoulders and laid his quiver next to him. "You two spread the word, tell the King to prepare our forces and stand ready. We don't know the extent of this yet."

The two Elves nodded silently and faded away with equal reticence. The father strung his bow and knocked an arrow to it, pulling the heavy draw to take careful aim. The Bloods hadn't begun to enter the protective boundaries but the wards weren't completely opened yet. He let the feathered shaft loose and it pierced the archway. Through the slightly obscured window a Vampire dropped dead.

The wards were a one way gate to the outside human world. One could leave from inside the wards easily enough; just walk through the invisible dome and you were out. Were one to try to enter from the outside though, they would encounter an invisible barrier if they possessed of magic. Without the magic required to detect the wards then nothing at all would seem amiss. This worked under the principle that the Elven Forest was a dimension removed from the natural world with very powerful and ancient magic, thus whatever development the Muggles had enacted upon the land the wards duplicated, was what they saw; whereas magic kept the original natural structure in existence. The only drawback from this type of magic was, from within the ward boundary, the external world was hidden.

A small rustle behind him alerted the Elf to the presence of Eleniel. He could feel her watching him as he sent a second arrow through the archway that was steadily clearing up. They regarded the strike of the arrow together and shared a silent communication between their eyes. .Sylmae was sent away once more to retrieve more arrows from the Forges; she wasn't happy about missing the battle. To save time, the two powerful figures in Elven culture accepted that no time could be wasted in procuring a vessel to get across the pool. Instead they immediately charged into the water of the pool, swimming powerfully through the calm waters. In but moments they made the opposite bank.

Rothilion dropped to his knees, leaning his quiver of arrows against his leg. Eleniel calming walked forward of his position with the cold rage of battle in her eyes and her spear braced tightly on her right arm. The void cleared into a crystalline portal and the waves began. The Vampires had entered into their own Blood Rage, scattering with wild abandon to attack the two Elves. The spear swished through the air, cutting down a Blood at the neck while three other Vampires fell with arrows lodged into vital parts of their bodies.

It became systematic and the Vampires were just fodder for arrows and spear point. The assault became more vigorous after a short period and Eleniel began to slowly back up, slashing all the while. It seemed the Vampires were only armed with swords of steel and iron, meaning that while still able to wound any injuries would be a simple thing to heal when there was time.

Rothilion kept up his assault with the arrows but he was beginning to run low. Just as he reached his last eight or so shafts, there came a disturbance in the area behind him. He turned in time to see a humanoid shape wreathed in black twisting magic roar then begin rocketing across the pool and past him. It crashed into the line of Vampires that had formed and finally slowed down enough for Rothilion to discover with no small amount of shock that it was Harry. The Hybrid had fully transformed, ripping a bloody swath through invaders like they weren't even there. The boy had obviously given himself over to the Demon; that much was glaringly clear when he tore a Vampire completely in half. With a thousand years of collective wisdom Rothilion intelligently backed away and crossed the pool.

The Elf kept his face stoic and emotionless as he watched the boy slaughter dozens of Bloods with nearly no effort at all. Eleniel remained on the field of battle fighting other Vampires that had kept a distance from the Hybrid. Sylmae stood next to him, watching with terrified eyes; for a fleeting moment the father of the Elf girl wished that his daughter didn't have to see such brutality but at the same time he knew it was necessary and that perhaps she would finally give up on the boy. Though, he did have to admit that the creature that Harry Potter had become had very impressive control over Abyssal Magic. If it was a little unrefined (Rothilion flinched slightly when the mammoth Vampire's skin split open like overripe fruit and the tentacles squirmed over the bloody pulp that slumped to the ground) it was still strong (he watched stunned when the thrown dagger cut straight through a Vampire). Then his astonishment turned into horror when the blade sunk into Eleniel's back.

He sprung into action as soon as the blade sunk in. Rothilion called forth several of the Elves that had begun to slowly gather ready with armaments to bring a vessel. He couldn't transport he Ekara through the water if she was wounded so. Without question the Elves jumped to obey him and raced off to gather the boat. The Elven Lord continued to watch while the boy appeared to realize who he was and rushed to help his master. He saw the conflict in the boy about the Elven blood on his hands, he saw Harry release golden light from his hands and saw the blood stop flowing from the wound. Harry stood and looked across the way at them; he focussed first on the Elves that were strangers to him then Rothilion's daughter much to the father's chagrin then, finally, the father himself. They locked eyes as they often did before the boy vanished in Abyss.

Sparing only a quick word to ensure the Elves fetched Eleniel Rothilion took off into the forest at break neck pace. He had to catch Harry before the boy completely disappeared from the area. There were things that had to be explained and plans to be mentioned.

* * *

Elven Forest, United Kingdom

11:56am-May 19, 1991

Harry refused to hesitate when he appeared in his hut in the Elven City. He tore off his daggers and soiled clothing; wiping down and throwing the blades into their sheath and donning new trousers and a short sleeved shirt. The boy gathered up the case for his kit and plucked the sword, inside of its scabbard, from the case. He moved fluidly, quickly so as to disappear before the Elves arrived, no doubt on a war path to get revenge for what he had done to Eleniel.

A sheaf of cloth filled with slots was tossed onto his bed. Harry moved to wall set with shelves and ran his hands along the bottle lined there. There were dozens of different bottles filled with everything from Eldar blood to that of simple animal life. His hand trailed along the bottles, flicking out to capture one or two every once in awhile to slip into the harness. The bottles kept the liquid cool, preserving it and while it ruined some of the flavour of the liquid Harry was grateful for the supply. Hunting in a world of humans would prove to be interesting if it ever came down to that.

He knew now that he would have to leave and figure out what do to once away from the Elves. He would be alone again, without any aid or shelter; the only exception was that of his Pack but he couldn't stay in the cave forever. The Wizarding world was greatly a mystery to him with only pieces of writing to guide him but even they gave him only vague ideas about what to do once there. He knew the Goblin bank Gringott's would be an important stop at some point; his parents must have had some kind of nest egg or supply of gold somewhere. He would need some resources to subsist on while he waited and planned on how to get into the Wizarding School in Scotland. Hogwarts was the center of activity in the UK for Britain: the most powerful Wizard in Europe ran the place; it was likely the two or three hundred students that would be attending the school at any one time would be there, sons and daughters of influence that perhaps could be used in the future. Everything he would need to succeed was at the school. Of course he would build an external network of some sort before he officially attended the school, as when it became known he was there he would be required to make regular appearances. To keep an eye on the other happening in the world he needed allies―a difficult prospect.

He managed to dredge together roughly forty bottles of the better varieties of blood he had available to him. Each one was Elven, laced with the genetic magic of the race and of the individual from which it had been taken. Only a few of the bottles had Eleniel's blood in them, donated to him as rewards after training sessions. And each only contained two glasses of the liquid, maybe three. Harry folded the cloth several times for an end result of a rectangular package he could bind with another strip of silk to protect the precious supply.

Next on his mental list, after weapons and blood, were tools he would need for the first while of survival. Several lengths of treated, twisted acromantula silk would serve as rope for whatever need might arise. If he needed fire Harry was confident he could summon enough raw magic to start one and since the cold or rain never bothered him it was a slim chance he would. Tools for forging were too cumbersome and annoying to transport with him even if he found the time to do any crafting but the boy grabbed several spheres of pure silver about the size of a good hand ball and a tall slim bottle of treated spring water. These items he placed in another section of silk and likewise wrapped it carefully to ensure full protection.

Everything was laid on out on the bed he had used in his time with the Fair Folk. The black weapons case, his bundle of drink, the package holding silver, water and rope, his sword―most all he would need. Clothing would be a small issue but one he could deal with later; Elves didn't use shoes so he'd have to wait to acquire some and he only had a couple other sets of shirts and pants. Harry slung the two bound package onto his back over the empty black case. His eyes cast around the hut one last time and he picked the sword up from the bed.

"All ready to leave then, I see." Harry snapped around, dropping low with a snarl. Before he realized what was happening black webbing burst from the door frame and coiled around Rothilion; yanking his arms out to the side and tightening around his neck. The Elf remained calm as he was bodily lifted up from the ground, "Harry . . . ."

"What do you want Elf? You won't stop me from leaving, I have done nothing wrong. In fact I saved this place from that invasion and you know it." Harry rose back to his full height, his voice level and calm but the burn in his eyes spit out each word.

Rothilion smirked at him, "So cold Harry. What happened to the confused but inquisitive boy who arrived here so many years ago?"

Harry paced slowly, looking at the Elf with hooded eyes, "You know very well what happened, Rothilion. No more games, what do you want?"

"Let me down would you." The Eldar raised an eyebrow. The boy sighed and released the magic to allow the Elf to drop. "Excellent. Now then, clearly you plan on leaving but contrary to what you believe I see that as an exceptional idea."

"Why?"

"Because Harry we both know what is going to happen when the King gets organized. You disobeyed the direct wishes of the Eldar, the Court and the King himself by practicing with the Abyss, which is the only way you could have used it with such familiarity. Even just a moment ago you proved that. You cannot stay here anymore if you wish to escape bodily harm for breaking our laws and injuring the oldest member of our race. I do not wish for you to have to bow to the punishments at our hands Harry, you have suffered enough in your life already.

I want you to leave. Now, run to the Wizarding World, integrate yourself into their society and live free for once Harry. We cannot truly reach you once you among the humans, Sylmae only did the first time because of luck. I can guarantee we won't try to get to you, I will personally deal with any plans to pursue you. Now beyond stopping any pursuit I have this for you," Rothilion tossed the bag he had held to Harry's feet.

Harry glanced down at it. It was plain, black and unadorned. Tubular with a single strap, silk ties held the long lengthwise split in the fabric shut tightly. The bag was neither particularly large nor very small and looked as if it had been packed quite full. He couldn't begin to guess what might be inside it but he knew that it would likely end up being rather useful.

"Most of what I have packed is self explanatory. There is a scroll with information on it you might find interesting and other things that might help you. I can't offer you much else Harry, all I have to say is good luck and do not lose yourself." Rothilion looked at him with sadness in his eyes. He glanced behind himself quickly then back to the boy, "You better leave. There are warriors approaching with the King and several mages in tow."

Harry nodded. He picked up the bag with his free hand, hefting the weight briefly. He couldn't tell anything about what might be in the bag from the weight other than it was relatively light.

As Harry began to fade with the black magic fluttering around the boy turned his dark eyes upon the Elf for the final time. For an instant Rothilion saw the old Harry the young boy that hadn't been touched by the darkness of the souls inside of him. For but an instant Rothilion saw regret in the emerald orbs. The flicker vanished, replaced by a cold indifference, and while the image of those eyes lingered for a second after the Hybrid's body had all but disappeared, the Elf breathed sorrowful parting, "I'm sorry."

* * *

_**A/N:**_ _There it is. Hopefully not too boring for you all, little bit more of Rothilion and Sylmae in there, even some Eleniel. Whether or not she dies . . . well I'm sure some of you can make a guess. This day will come back to haunt Harry in more ways than one, I can promise you that._

_Explained a little bit more of Elven hierarchy there too; it'll come into play later on perhaps this is just a precursor and don't expect to see it for some while, I was basically just testing the waters with that seeing what I could do for them. Before now it had been glossed over fairly completely so I thought I'd better throw something in to show more of their lifestyle. Two councils; the King's (generals, advisors, masters etc to rule the Elven people on the Uk) and the Eldar (oldest of the race, keepers of secrets and knowledge). Not much else to say for that. Anything unclear on your end?_

_Couple of small bits in there that if you read closely you might notice strange properties of lack thereof from the norm. This is most likely intended; in fact there is one instance that I hope someone will pick up one . . .I plan to give it a significance later beyond what you could presume just from this chapter._

_Other than that: should I alter the pairing at all? it has become write tempting to morph into a multi/harem type of deal for Harry (I have found some Harem stories quite good). Just looking for some input at this point, I love the HarryxTonks pairing but I find myself wanting to write other pairings I like and I can't do separate stories for them all. I also may be sticking up a little 2000 word oneshot I did in about 45 minutes about Harry and Bellatrix that mentions HarryxTonks (it's not HarryxBella, rather an end to Harry's conflicts that centers on Bella) and contains mentions of a time travel type of concept. I had once thought to put a similar scene into this story but decided on something quite different (so far no plans for time travel in Blood Lines, this potential scene was just for Bella). And finally, like the image? It's supposed to be blood, I found it online and borrowed it. I couldn't track down a darker more somber image similar to that and I lack editing skills for images._

_Please don't forget to review, I appreciate the response to this story greatly and I am quite proud of it's following (however small it may be) of 294 alerts, 212 favorites, and 17 C2s. I'd like more reviews though._

_Expect an update in about a week, give or take. Maybe sooner if the majority of readers get through this quick and traffic slows again. This chapter was about 6,600 words long. Thank you for reading this and sticking with it if you haven't just found it._

_Nazran_


	9. Interlude I

_**A/N:**_ _As promised yet another chapter has arrived. No real answers to give for any reviews this time, thank you all for the support. I've made some decisions for Blood Lines, this is addressed to ALL readers__::_

_One, I think it follow canon very loosely and I will be altering and inserting events to my liking but the some of the framework from JKR will be around (ex. Third year, Lupin). Harry won't be purchasing anything according to a letter with a list. . . hint, hint. Still I hope to maintain my own individuality from the canon, the entire story thus far has been almost entirely my own and I quite like that._

_Two, probably won't be a harem story or Harry with multiple women, rather HarryxTonks (__whether it ends well or not__) will be the end result of the primary pairing but there are many years encompassed so Harry and Tonks both will be doing different things. This in no way guarantees that Harry and Tonks will be together at the end of this story when I write it but they will feature very significantly._

_Three, Harry currently is extremely powerful but to some degree lacks control (one example chapter after this); this power though will be tempered with other issues arising later. Harry is not a god, he will not be made so._

_Four, Elves aren't gone yet, and as this chapter demonstrates neither are the Vampires. They'll feature throughout the story, 49'000 words spent on Elves and some Vampires won't be wasted. Allies, and enemies._

_Far as I can tell that's it for now, unless I have forgotten something. I have reformatted the location writing at the beginning of each page break, later Harry may travel a bit so I want it known more where he is specifically. 'War Wolves', my mistake, have been removed, replaced with another invented race of creatures that will feature strongly in the story. _

_And here we go. _

* * *

_**Blood Lines**_

_**Interlude I **_

* * *

Hidden Valley, Elven Forest

8am-May 22, 1991

Harry scooped the cool water over his face with his hands, revelling in the feeling of it upon his skin. This was second time he had taken to doing so in the early mornings of his life in solitude. Not that it had truly begun quite yet, it had only been two short days since his abrupt exile from the Elves. It had felt like longer though as without the training or reading material Harry found he didn't much enjoy waiting around. Of course he had slept for roughly seven or eight hours from exhaustion once he arrived back at the cave in the valley. Wielding so much Abyssal Magic at once had take more out of him than he had expected it would, though the rage of the Demon took a heavy toll as well.

There was a scuffling noise as two gargoyle cubs from his new band rolled around nearby, playing at war cheerfully and enjoying the new levity brought by the vanquishing of the Cave Bear. It seemed the gargoyles could adjust readily enough to his presence and the lack of their only predator. He had awoken to find quite the supply of deer meat left over from a feeding that first day. Harry had accepted it without comment taking it as a good sign his second could operate the band efficiently without causing difficulty.

He hadn't expected the animals to be so intelligent but they worked together as a tightly knit social group. The few times he communicated with any member they had been able to respond readily enough with the broken images and feelings and even the simple language they used. Their messages came across at least. Harry had decided it was easiest to leave the band as they be; certain things he could command them to do if he desired but they were better off with the Beta leading them in everyday life.

Apart from establishing a hierarchy with the gargoyles Harry hadn't accomplished too much in recent days. He'd taken care of the bear carcass, rendering it down into basic parts like meat, hide, claws, the skull, and such. The gargoyles could feed from the meat to supplement the deer they had hunted down and the hide could be used for a bed until he found better arrangements. The skull he kept as a reminder, after scraping off flesh he had seared it with boiling water to sterilize the bone and set it out to dry in the sun―he'd even begun rough construction of an alcove to rest it in. The blood he had taken was powerful magically speaking, providing energy to him while the claws had yet to be discerned a use for. The organs weren't much use, even with the magic contained in the animal they wouldn't last long enough for Harry to be able to use them.

Other than that there was only the time he had spent to clean out the cave. He had manipulated water from the wellspring with magic to flush out the blood and saliva. To avoid any growth of mould or fungi from the moisture Harry had then dried out the cave with fire. The gargoyles had moved in with little hesitation and settled themselves leaving Harry to count the muggle money Rothilion had given him and pick through the bag.

Today with his list of names in check he would make his first foray into the human world since the Dursleys. Within the bag Rothilion had saw fit to give him there was that list of associates that knew of the Elves and would willingly give him some assistance if he made it known what he was. Where these people might be found and a short description of who they were was also provided. The Goblins, it appeared, knew of him specifically and so once Harry made it into the Wizarding market called Diagon Alley he'd make contact with them; hopefully his status would make it easier to deal with them. Another name of interest was stationed at the very school he planned to infiltrate, perhaps making it easier to hide his . . . nature.

Harry summoned a portal, a black oval floating in the space directly in front of him. It swirled slowly before him, the shadows undulating with mesmerizing rhythm. He stepped into it, letting that darkness swallow him. The dead and devoid space of the Abyss pulsed as he called up another portal and slid through it.

* * *

London, England

8:06am-May 22,1991

In a cloud of black the boy appeared at a small derelict park. Memories all filled with an icy derision and hatred of an abused child. This however did not stop the boy from allowing himself to linger over the construct, examining it with an emotionless gaze. Every detail was the same, nothing had changed but for four years of added wear from the elements and children.

He padded over the hard pack ground. There was purpose to him being there now, no longer did he drift through a painful life. Harry was making his way to edge of Little Whinging, to the part of the neighbourhood that held a small commerce area. It would be filled with restaurants and small shops, it was here he could summon a taxi to take him into the London proper, to the Leakey Cauldron, and then he would take his first steps in the wizarding world, to begin his path to vengeance fully. Slowly the surrounding changed, he moved past the park, beyond the alleyway of Magnolia Crescent to where traffic increased in the quiet area. More people walked the streets, ignoring the boy in simple dark clothing who deftly weaved through them.

Without issue Harry called up a taxi from the street, directing the grizzled driver to the general area of the Leakey Cauldron as specified by Rothilion. The throng of humans was suffocating. Dirty, smelly creatures they were; blood tainted with the absence of magic. Steeling himself against the overwhelming barrage of reeking human, so different from the clean scent of the Elves, Harry wove through the crowds. The magic in his blood allowed him to approach and enter the Leakey Cauldron without forgetting suddenly about wanting to enter the place.

Within the stuffy pub there were few patrons, understandable seeing as it was fairly early still and few would be in for a drink. Those that were there would be in for a breakfast or to get to the Alley through methods that weren't as expensive as say paying the apparition charge for using the gateway in Diagon Alley or the bills for a Floo Network hook up. He had long ago lost the looks that would make recognizable; gone were the glasses, the plain hair, the thin frail body, the clear eyes of his mother. He looked wild and untamed, long ragged hair tumbled down over his shoulders, glinting eyes tainted with the Void glared, emotionless depths clear with nothing to obscure them, his body was hard, toughened and trained.

Harry swept through the bar silently. Few paid him a second glance, Tom did not argue when he flicked the Knuts over to pay for use of the wall. In some pathetic farce there was a diagram next to the weathered brick wall displaying the proper bricks to tap for access to the Alley, obviously for those less informed. The bricks clicked open, rotating and folding away revealing the gateway for what it was.

The boy slipped silently through the hole, pausing for only an instant in observation. There were few people out in the Alley likely in part due to the hour just as it had been with the Leaky Cauldron and in part due to regular summer bustle of tourists and magicals out on day trips still several weeks away. Of course several early risers were out flitting from one shop (all of which had just opened) to the next or purposefully strolling through the Alley. None were threats, in fact even if any of them had had any competency in magic―which Harry highly doubted seeing as everyone of them still had to use conduits in the form of wands to materialize their magic in the world―most were late in life, even for wizards; these people were the eldest of the Pureblood lines or first generation scions, even aged Muggle-borns that had survived the wars without annihilation. Ahead the wide pathway curved off to the left, the view vanishing behind a larger building, a wizarding restaurant from the looks of the table set outside. All this Harry took in during a lapse that no human would have notice before he continued forward.

No one paid any attention him as he swiftly made his way through the street, as oblivious as the Muggles had been. The cloying reek of dried ingredients, a vast selection collided into him from the side, the Apothecary a shadowy building across from the metallic scent of cauldrons on the other side of the street. Harry ignored the shops coolly, were he to buy anything first he would need funds from the bank and even then it wasn't a necessity. He did however have to find some equipment with which he could establish a small presence near Hogwarts. From the cave he inhabited now, he could do nothing. After all no human or any other creature could enter Elven land without their express permission (of course Harry's magic defied this) or prior knowledge of the existence of Elves, of which few humans have, discounting the fact that knowing about their presence did not guarantee they'd trust the individual enough to reveal their homes.

Soon enough he found his way to the great double doors of the Gringott's Bank, the hulking structure of white marble imposing when compared to the buildings around. Two diminutive goblins stood at full attention other either side of the doors, dwarfed by the massive bronze doors and the long barbed spears set sternly against their shoulders. Harry was at first curious if they were to maintain the vicious masks of indifference they had on but the illusion was broken when both flicked their eyes to him and barred their teeth threateningly. Harry merely cocked his head to the side at the goblin to his right and blinked at him. The creatures snarl faded with surprise and a flicker of unease in its eyes causing Harry to grin cheerfully and continue on through the doors into the small entrance hall.

The room was small. Adorned with golden trim on every surface and countless minute jewels of perfect quality, the room was bright and clean. A larger than life mosaic of precious stones and minerals depicted the goblin founder of the bank, Gringott, on both sides of Harry. Massive doors, poured of the purest silver opened inward before the boy. These doors were easily half again as large as the bronze ones behind him but on these were carved words of warning, a surprisingly poetic if forbidding group of lines. The message was simple; don't anger the goblins.

High counters lined both walls of the spacious grand hall of the bank. There were sixty goblins in the rooms, each counting massive piles of gold, sorting sacs of the stuff on their respective counters, shuffling through paperwork, intently focussed on their work with the funds of England and Scotland. _A foolish act of superiority, to make the counter stand so much taller than any wizard or witch that might choose to do their business,_ the thought passed absently through Harry's mind. It was perhaps some form of revenge on the part of the goblins.

The boy continued through the hall. He knew that it would be unwise to disturb a goblin engaged in business without first establishing a respect base with the creatures. Once they were familiar with each other then he would do as he pleased, within reason. It wouldn't be terribly difficult, anyways, to work with them; they were beings of money, wealth and power was the currency of respect, so long as they were taken into consideration than one could do many things freely. Quietly Harry made his way over to a goblin who seemed to have reached a lull in his effort.

The Hybrid looked up at the goblin, "I wish to speak with someone concerning my treasuries." The tone was flat, lacking any inflection or respect but neither was it mocking or superior.

"And who might you be boy?" The rough rasping voice growled out while the goblin stared down at him over the frame of half moon spectacles.

Harry blinked before replying, "One who prefers discretion for his business and would appreciate the service of it."

"Ahh of course, sir, if you would follow me right this way." Clearly the goblin had some inkling of his nature, perhaps an instinct, perhaps a conscious knowledge. Harry followed as the goblin clambered down from his perch and led him to a door set among twenty-nine others in the wall. Without comment they passed by another two guards (each of the doors had a pair of goblins standing impassively beside it), these armed with slim sabers sheathed in brilliant scabbards of bright metal. A narrow corridor, they followed for a ways to a hub room that was circular in shape. Comfortable chairs lined the walls and several stacks of various reading materials were scattered on the tables beside the chairs. It was a lobby, used for those who made appointments and arrived early or those who hadn't and were forced to wait during busy hours. Through one of the doors they went and the goblin took a place behind a large desk of dark wood, "Now then who are you and what is your business with Gringott's Bank?"

Harry took a moment to examine his surroundings. The room was a generic rectangular shape, bookshelves full of manifests, logs, and other files among thick tomes lined three of the walls. The desk was imposing, magnificently polished wood gleaming under the light of the crystal chandelier above their heads. Several quills, including a flashy ornate black affair with bright gilding, rested on the polished surface accompanied by various ink well. Harry also took note of the simple brightly polished dagger set lightly on a black silken sheet. He spared a glance back at the guards he had scented when entering the room, they were tucked away in slight recesses in the wall, trying to remain unnoticed. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Worry not, they are sworn to secrecy not to reveal any of goings on in this room. My personal retainers, each manager of Gringott's vaults has several, some of whom work as guards, others to aid in the management itself." The goblin had clasped its long clawed fingers together over the desk.

"You share this information freely? Revealing the secrets of your kind and this bank?" Harry stared resolutely back at the goblin, careful to keep emotion from his eyes. To express emotion in oneself while holding eye contact was a dire insult to goblin kind.

"The information is guarded closely only from the humans, sir. Seeing as you are not I believe our conversation has revealed nothing vital in this regard. But for us to continue business I require to know to whom I speak so plainly."

"Such information could be dangerous, goblin. I would want of what your own name is as well." The best way to deal with goblins and their little games was to play along, maintain an illusion of control and one could gain their curiosity if not respect. Strange how the creature knew he wasn't human but goblins had always had exceptional instincts for business so it could stand to reason they had some ability in evaluating their clients.

"Well played, sir. My name is Skullfist in the English tongue, number fifteen of the sixty managers here at Gringott's bank. My duty is―as with all of us here―to ensure that our interests and those of our clients are protected throughout our dealings and that both sides profit from any and all ventures."

"Skullfist, may your silver never tarnish. I am Harry Potter, the only Hybrid in existence and the guardian of the realms of the dead." Harry spoke pleasantly, as if none of it was of any great significance.

Skullfist's eyes widened dramatically before he regained control of himself, "This is quite the revelation Mr. Potter; it's been quite the time since we last saw a Potter in this building, even longer still since one joined of the Two Halves spoke to any of my race." Skullfist got down from his seat and went to the bookshelf directly behind him, long nail skimming over the leather bindings over the tomes, he paused at one particularly thick volume and pulled it from the wall. "It will be a pleasure and an honor to provide as best we can for one such as yourself. It just so happens to be that my bloodline has managed the Potters' business in Gringott's since their formation from the Peverell family some nine hundred years ago," The goblin continued setting the tome down on the desk, and, with some effort, opening the cover, "This is the Potter record containing the account balance, dealings, vault numbers, vault contents and any and all other information pertaining to the Potter fortune and holdings stretching back to the last century...that is why you have come here, I presume."

"Indeed Skullfist that is why I am here. Mutual acquaintances have informed me of my family's affluence in this world and I wish to use it as I was meant to. After all my parents are dead and the only remaining kin I have close enough to claim disowned my mother decades ago." A small flicker of rage stirred in Harry but nothing showed for it as he spoke.

"Yes, yes of course. A certain Lord sent a missive to our bank informing us of your impending arrival. We looked most forward to it; interesting happenings always follow when the races come together like this and interesting means profit." Skullfist grinned to himself as he flipped through the account book, "You are the eldest male able to take control of the accounts meaning you may take up Lordship of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter should you so choose." The goblin looked up at Harry from the book.

"Does not the government become informed of the change in lordship, should I acquiesce to do so?" Harry wished to avoid being revealed as alive for as long as possible

"Often that is the case, however you have been declared dead for several years and so for all intents and purposes any files the ministry of Britain has on you have been closed for quite some time. They won't take immediate notice of any changes to your files, more so if we practice discretion but you plan to enter into the Hogwarts do you not?" Harry shook his head at these words. "Then it won't matter, the ministry won't take any care with your files until you have been revealed as returned to the world, just be sure to maintain a low profile until you wish to be known."

"Very well, what is required for my ascension?"

Skullfist smiled with closed lips, to bare teeth at another was a challenge in Goblin culture, "Very well, Mr. Potter. We need only your signature and a bit of your blood to ensure the magic recognizes you as the new Lord Potter." The goblin's long fingers selected a sheaf of parchment from the ledger before him and with a quick examination pushed it toward Harry following quickly with that black quill. "Simply sign on the line."

The boy took the quill delicately in his long fingers and signed on the line at the bottom of the parchment. The Elves had long ago taught him writing, far more extensively than anything the Dursleys had ever given him through public education. Harry learned handwriting in English first, followed closely by Elven and various other languages including French, German, Chinese, Italian, Gaelic, Latin, and several more. They had trained with the skills of a diplomat as much as that of a warrior. He had of course scanned the document quickly, a nearly invisible action, it all appeared to in order however, no tricks or clauses hidden within the contract.

"Very good Lord Potter." Harry's lips quirked upward very slightly at this, he found he quite liked the title, Lord Potter. It rang with dignity, affluence and even spoke volumes of his inner power; it fit. Skullfist clasped his hands once more, "Will there be anything else I need attend to for you today, Milord?"

"Is there anything of note within the vaults of the Potter Family?" Harry knew it was unlikely but it was always best to be sure.

"Allow me a moment. . .It does not appear so. The Potter family was in quite a high standing with Gringott's, their wealth second only to those such as the House Black, the Hogwarts accounts and that of the Department of Mysteries. Government budgeting funnels millions of galleons into research each year, tax payers you know. The founders of Hogwarts―Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor―upon the deaths of these greats their moneys were all funneled into the largest account in Europe, it's express purpose to supply students without the means and to ensure the highest level of education is not barred by mere material. And the Black House, their accounts have been frozen since their last patron, Sirius Orion Black was sent to Azkaban prison, he still lives and so the accounts are his to assume control of should he ever be released or until he dies at which point the assets will be sold off and the profits distributed to various related families."

"How much wealth do I now have control of?" Harry had known the Potters had gold but he hadn't expected as much as Skullfist had hinted at.

This time Skullfist smiled broadly at him (his teeth, no doubt filed finely, remained hidden behind thin lips), "Ah Lord Potter, you are quite wealthy indeed and it is an honour to work with one so esteemed," Money was the secret to goblin cooperation, coveting wealth more than anything, "The trust alone, to which you've had access to since you were born, contains one hundred seventy three thousand four hundred thirteen galleons, sixteen sickles and twenty five knuts; a very respectable sum."

"And the other vaults?"

"I don't not believe you wish to hear the details of the accounts, but your fortune numbers easily a few hundred thousand galleons in monetary assets plus assorted collections of fine jewelry, gold, silver, raw and cut stones―though perhaps less than what it should be, such as the cost of war takes a toll―as well as some ancestral items worthy of note if only for their significance in the past. As far as the records currently stretch there is a small amount of literature, mostly older volumes of various texts from Hogwarts and several curiosity works, stored in the main vault chambers. Among these are copies of many deeds to various properties around the continent and a number of others in more exotic areas, most have been closed for years; preserved by the wards and inherent magic in the properties. They are also several stakes in muggle and magical companies that continue to turn a profit though a Potter hasn't taken a seat on any Board since Gellert rampaged his way through Europe.

You also have ownership of approximately one hundred forty eight House Elves, the numbers aren't guaranteed accurate however, the stasis charms on many of the Potter properties do not allow for us to keep complete records as goes with the wards also. The House Elves have been keeping care of the properties as far as we can tell, although, the bond has not been renewed in over a decade; they may not retain their sanity still."

"That is considerably more than I expected to come into this day." In truth Harry was stunned. This was an unimaginable amount of resources to draw from, he was quite frankly at a loss as to what he would do with it but at the least he was put at ease as to surviving in the world of finance. Thinking quickly Harry took control and directed Skullfist: the properties would remain preserved and untouched for now (he would simply purchase something for himself, something suited to his needs if it came down to it), but the House elves would have to be handled accordingly; his main vaults were to be left untouched as well with the trust he didn't need much more until such time he needed to buy properties; investment would remain static; the temptation to look into his main vault chambers was there but ignored for the time being; Skullfist told him of bank notes, much like cheques in the muggle world that needed only a value and a signature to be used in place of physical gold, Harry purchased a book of them for five galleons for his shopping later; and with that his business at Gringott's bank was concluded.

The boy bid farewell to Skullfist, promising business later and profit for both of them. The goblin had been gracious, likely inwardly ecstatic at having a client to head his most powerful client account once more. The bank had been dealt with and Harry had considerable cash in his pockets, figuratively speaking, he needed only to acquire whatever he so chose. He knew that the Hogwarts letter might arrive soon enough, a few months anyways, it had to now that he was free of the some of the wards of the Elven Forest; the magic could detect his signature and the automatically written, addressed and sent letter could reach him with no one the wiser of his existence. Until Dumbledore began to learn the names of every new student supposed to attend, as was his habit.

Harry left the bank briskly. First on the agenda was clothing, he needed wizarding clothing to blend more efficiently into the crowds of people wearing their robes. He looked decidedly out of place in the tight, shapeless black silk he wore; dressed in more formal attire with a robe overlapping would make him less conspicuous. Naturally he gravitated to the Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions; the outfit held a near monopoly on all wizardry clothing ranging from the most economical and simple robes to the finest dress robes woven of the best materials and imported from around the world. The couture styles were on the upper floors of the older building, few knew about them unless they had enough money to buy the building. as it was Malkin' only offered to take measurements and provide sample pieces, taking preferences down on blank generic robe models to ensure the best product possible could be made overseas.

The boy entered with purpose. Despite his scruffy appearance, and he was indeed rather worn, and unsanitary; he could only manage some cleaning after the battle with the Vampires―it was inadequate by any means―Harry didn't stop for any of the three clerks who came up to him. He blew past them coolly, briskly making his way to the dense curtain of velvet obscuring the stairs. The clerks retreated and Harry slipped up through the narrow stairwell.

The light within the stairs themselves was dim; a single flickering lamp strung high up in the ceiling. He swept through a second curtain and into a large lavish landing, selections and displays of high end robes and garb lined the walls and simulated natural light beamed out from the ceiling from the Magelight charms that clung there, pods of light permanently attached. Malkin herself stood off to the side, at a small counter. She was a squat woman, shorter than Harry was, several times wider and many times cheerier. The angled lenses of her glasses hung low on her nose as she worked with great ardor examining a section of fine fabric.

After a time the woman took notice of him standing silently by the curtain, watching her intently through locks of his thick black hair. Immediately she smiled brightly at him, her eyes kind and eager. She bustled over to him, sizing him up. "Welcome, welcome, how might I help you, young sir?" she smiled again at him, displaying her glistening white teeth with an air of pride about her.

Her hand snaked toward his shoulder but he froze her with a dark look, "Don't dare touch me, I'm here to buy not to be pawed at."

"Of course, of course, I apologize sir. Now what are you looking for?" She forced the smile this time, put off his manner, "May I ask your name? I don't believe I've seen you here before though you are familiar..."

"It's not important. I have gold and I need a new wardrobe, nothing more; I'll pay handsomely."

"Wonderful, wonderful. Do you have anything in particular in mind?"

"Silk, preferably acromantula or something, the like; black, close cut, not tight enough to inhibit mobility, styled in muggle formal wear; I need long cloaks, hooded with only slight drag behind my heels, for all weathers. In you carry footwear I want tough leather, perhaps dragon, again flexible." Harry paused in thought, "Perhaps some white as well."

Malkin nodded to herself brow furrowed, "I believe I have just thing, yes indeed I know a fantastic designer, French you know, very good at his craft. Moreau is his name, quite renowned in Wizarding Europe. Of course he isn't for everyone, very posh. Best on the continent right now, though, very high standards and he's very skilled with muggle style clothing, he makes the premier Hogwarts uniform base currently." She puttered off to side wall and returned with an example, even from a distance the silk glimmered in the light, flowing as water over the woman's arm.

"Very well." Harry said looking at the item, he fingered it lightly, "For now, I need to be measured for a full fitting I do of course want it tailored."

"Yes, yes absolutely. Now if you'll just put on this, we'll get the measurements and chalk at work and I'll work up the order sheet for you, sir." She was excited now, one could see it in her eyes; _money always tells_, Harry thought.

It went in a relatively painless manner to set up the order and be measured. Fortunately Malkin did not touch Harry, the tailor's chalk and measuring tape magically hovered around, following the madam's instructional wand movements while she fished out an order form. She grabbed a quill and some ink and took notes on what he wanted, directing his fitting with the other hand. Her eyes gleamed as he listed the number of button down shirts, pull-over shirts, trousers, outer vests, ties and cloaks he wanted noting any specifics features he wanted along with enchantments to be cast while creating the products and colors he wished for the clothing. Harry had a great deal of control in the process of exactly what he wanted, a benefit of buying the very best.

Harry left several thousand galleons lighter but with a complete wardrobe under order, completion would be a couple of months but it was a large order considering the nature of it. He could not acquire proper footwear at Malkin's so he chose to look elsewhere.

The boy did not yet have the list of supplies he was required to have for Hogwarts and his prospective 'schooling' but he wasn't planning to truly attend the school and so spent some time searching through the Alley. He wandered through the Magical Menagerie eyeing the small animals with disgust and disdain; leaving immediately upon having a Kneazle attempt to attack him. Harry also visited the Eeylops Owl Emporium and settled on purchasing a fierce looking snowy owl that he named Fëa (fay-ah), the Elven word for _spirit_. She was a gorgeous animal.

He bought little else but the bird. It was little more than a scout mission today. He had found proper wizarding attire, befitting of his new found station, he had a new communication line with Fëa for contact with whomever he may need. There was little else to do, he didn't really need property yet; the cave would serve well enough. Hogwarts was another matter but he didn't need to be in the school to watch for signs of Voldemort. And should the day come when Voldemort proved to still be vying for his power, Harry could enter the school and crush the wraith of a human.

Having only spared a cursory glance at the junk shop across from Ollivander's, Harry refrained from going further into the entertainment sector of Diagon Alley; the restaurants, clubs, theatres, and such. He could glimpse just past this stretch of businesses several larger buildings that contained the offices of larger companies, including a particularly grand example being the Dailey Prophet with a massive magically lit sign proclaiming it to be the paper near the end. At the very end of the Alley, beyond the Daily Prophet, there at the imposing black building that was the Ministry of Magic. The boy continued walking back toward the Leaky Cauldron.

His keen eyes picked out a rather obvious darkened area of the alley, a side street. There was a dingy, worn sign that read Knockturn Alley jutting crudely from one building. Clearly it was a less favourable part of town, home to the scum of the Wizarding World. Normally he would not hold any interest for the dirty hole but there was a familiar scent drifting in through the air, undetectable to any save himself. Its flavours rang distantly in his mind, discordant notes weaving their way through a web of memories and sensations clouded in fog. Harry found himself slipping into the darkness of the Alley, into the grunge.

The oppressive atmosphere of Knockturn Alley pervaded the very air. Within its maze of shadows, tiny sub-alleys and dirty shop fronts Harry strode invisible. The cloaked magicals of the place paid him no heed, at least those who were passing by didn't. A couple of feeble beggars clad in rags reached out to him as he wanted, moaning; whores in dirty torn gowns cackled at him from the shadows, slinging insults at him in high screeching voices. The silence of the Alley worked its magic on the calls of the prostitutes, the sound of their voices didn't travel far. Harry moved forward relentlessly, seeking out the familiarity so as out of place; deeper and deeper he drove into the bowels of the underworld of wizards.

A few minutes later he came to find what he was looking for. Hidden away in a ruinous dead end corner, shrouded in the ever present shadow, lay the source of the scent. It was black, an inky darkness that blotted out everything despite the midday sun. Among the stench of the squalor, hidden behind the more pleasant feminine flavour lay the ice of the Vampire, she was dying in the crepuscule. It became clear as he looked at her, his eyes piercing the black, that she hadn't fed in a long time; her hair dirty, greasy, it's color no longer distinguishable; deep lines crossed over the skin of her face, cracked like parchment, sinking in around her eyes; grime coated her, marring her pale complexion as much as the way it clung to her bones. The woman was frighteningly thin, each rib highlighted brightly in the torn scraps of her clothing. Harry supposed that at one time she might have been attractive but now that beauty was hidden behind the pathetic, weak shell that remained.

Her gaze flicked up to him, unseeing blank eyes of grey tinged with the faintest traces of saffron. He head swayed slightly, as if she were a drunkard. Suddenly she bolted unsteadily upward, lunging at his shorter frame with the desperation of a dying animal. A long thing hair pin had appeared in her hand, a makeshift dagger clutched tightly as she charged. Harry smirked and caught her wrist before she could drive the weapon down into the top of his shoulder, stepping forward he threw her roughly to the ground. The Vampire landed hard, the impact jarring her entire body. Her head lolled back, mouth parted.

Harry cocked his head to the side as a spear smashed into his mental barriers, plunging into the sea of magic that surrounded Harry's mind. The spear was consumed and a bolt of lightning shot from the clouds of Harry's magic and the woman screamed loudly, collapsing into the wall and shivering with fear. Harry's power held her there, catatonic as she huddled against the grunge. The boy took this opportunity to pierce her own weakened barriers and sifted through her thoughts and memories. Slowly, with surprising care he withdrew, having found what he wanted.

"You survived then. I had wondered what became of you after that night. I did spare your life." Harry stepped back and watched woman as he drew back the power of the Fear.

Slowly the woman uncurled from the fetal position she had tightened into. The Vampire lay back against the wall once more, heaving with labored gasps. She looked at him.

He examined his hands intently waiting for her to reply.

"You...why are you h―" she broke off into coughing violently, some of her own blood flying from her cracked lips.

"That remains to be seen Vampire, I need contacts, information, a foundation in this world. I've been isolated for the past four years; you have been living free here. Perhaps we can work out a deal." She coughed again, this time weakly. "You're dying, how long since you last fed?"

"A...while, several weeks, more than a month..." Her voice was rasping out in painful sounding gouts, followed by more blood.

"Incredible. So long yet you still live, I wonder what strength you have to manage that." Harry mused half to himself, Vampires typically could not survive more than two maybe three weeks before the need for blood would drive them into an insane massacre. Most fed at least once a week. His ears picked up a slight rustle, "We will continue this after."

Harry turned and vanished into the black of the alley behind him. He flowed silently, a ghost, through the murk, tracking the man who was armed with steel. The human was trying to be stealthy, most certainly he had heard the scream of the female Vampire and had to come to find the hidden treasure, hoping for an easy score of some sort. Still his booted feet crunched on the worn cobblestone of the lane so Harry had little difficulty finding the man. Small, wiry, a rat of a man, just as Piers Polkiss had been. He stepped lightly behind the man, continuing as he did to creep forward.

He could sense the change in the man when he saw the decrepit woman, weak and vulnerable. The human became predatory, malicious in his own way though still soft, still so fragile. The Vampire glared up at the man coldly, defiance still in her even at what could be her end.

"Ah so easy...so beautiful...I'm going to enjoy this, my little deary." The man murmured softly toward the woman. His voice was almost filled with affection, a twisted dark affection for the exposed. He knelt down before the Vampire and started rocking on his haunches toying with the blade of his dull, rusted blade.

Harry watched, unnoticed. When the human lowered himself, he moved forward, standing directly behind the would-be monster. Her eyes flicked to Harry, the man turned to see what she had looked at and Harry's clawed hand drove itself through his scull; slicing into brain. Blood leaked from between the creases of Harry's fingers. The corpse slumped down while Harry thrust its weight to the woman. She didn't hesitate, dragging herself upright and hauling the cadaver into her lap to sink fangs into the flesh of its neck.

The Vampire drank greedily, sucking back large gulps of the still-warm liquid. Steadily the life returned to the woman; her skin filled, becoming taut around replenished muscle; the cracks faded from her face; ribs faded away; she became healthy again, if still dirty. The pale grey of the eyes glittered, saffron flooding in through them like blood in water as the energy reinvigorated the woman. Finally she finished, pushing the drained husk away from her. She stood fully, stretching luxuriously and cracking stiff joints.

Harry watched her, unconcerned with her state of undress. She didn't seem particularly aware of it either. She looked at him now, a perplexing expression gracing her features. Now with health once more in her, Harry could see her for what she was; her body was fit, alluring in its wiry form and strength; like all of the Vampires, her skin was pale―glowing white visible even through the built up slop; little else was obvious due to the obscuring filth.

"What is it you wanted then, Hybrid?" She was brave now, at least outwardly. The strength of the blood now within her granting her that power to be so, Harry found it laudable.

"You owe me twice over now. What I need is to be able to operate successfully in this world, for that I need information. I am aware of the conflict, between the Ninn and Sereg," Harry spoke using the words of the language that Elves had claimed as theirs for _Slender_, the Elves, and _Blood_, Vampires. Absently he wiped his bloody hand on the clothing of the dead human. "They attacked recently, organized they attacked the city the Elves have on the island. I want to know who is leading them, who organized them, why is this person against Elves as they are, what do they want. You have that information, you are one of their kind. You know others."

"Ha-ha how old are you boy? Nine? Ten? These people you seek are ancient, hundreds of years old with legions of loyal soldiers at their hands. You may be strong but you can't defeat these creatures, they have forces beyond you."

"Precisely why I need the information and why you should cooperate with me."

"They hunt you, you know. They want you to join them, to destroy those arrogant forest fools who find themselves better than us. Can you blame them? Vampires live in all worlds; human, wizard, Goblin, Veela; we have survived thousands of years in the hell of the natural world while Ninn hide away in their pockets of magic, ignorant of the world.

I was human once, a witch, but they took that life from. Wizards despise us, dark creatures they scream at us while casting fire and death, my life was stolen. You see what I became, it is as much your fault as theirs and I hate you both. I was surviving before you, I had no stature but I was living, I could feed. Then you came, I was tortured for you, tossed aside when the court had their information―exiled. You let me live but I had no life left. The man you killed was my only lifeline; he kept me alive even if he was an idiot."

Harry stood silent and listened to her rant. This woman was entrenched in her anger, spurned on by the fresh energy thrumming inside of her she had let her mouth run off. Dumping this information at his feet was unwise but she was past caring.

"You're no different from them. You want war, death. All I want is to live."

Harry gestured around them, "You said you had no life. This is exactly that, there's nothing for you in this pit. I have given you life twice now, taken nothing from you; you forget I was attacked by you, you and that fool of a man planned to drain me of life and leave me there in an alley. That you ended up in a different alley is no fault of mine. However, now I offer you a way out. You will give me the information I need, whether or not that is willingly is your choice. I have no issue with torturing you, my methods will be far worse than anything you know." She only glared at him darkly, spitting coldly. Harry barred his teeth thinly, "So be it."

* * *

Hidden Valley, Elven Forest

9:45am-September 1, 1991

"You're to go to this school now, then?" the woman asked him as he strapped harnesses to his body, to hold several smaller vials and a couple of blades, over his tightly fit silken shirt.

The green eyed boy glanced up, "No." He flexed his toes in the stone of the cave, "I travel to live in the forest surrounding the school, to watch."

The woman scowled at the boy, "And what would you have me do while you play spy?" her tone held no small amount of disgust and frustration.

"Careful Katherine, I do not wish to have to teach you a lesson again." she flinched at his flat voice, emotionless but still holding a thinly veiled threat. "You will continue to instruct our guests in the English language and make contact with those who might join us. I will return when I can, to ensure all is right."

"Of course, Milord." The Vampire's teeth were grit as she ground out this acceptance of orders. She turned and stalked off through the cave.

Harry shook his head. Katherine, he had learned her name while extricating information from her, still had trouble accepting his rule, but she of course had no choice in the matter. The boy had taken no pleasure in what he had done to the woman, allowing her to keep some dignity by not stripping her of all her clothes. Still he had not been gentle in his breaking of her though he had made sure to not drive her completely away from him (as soon as he had seen her he knew she'd be useful). She had bled well before finally giving in and telling him what he wanted. Information had rushed from her lips, all she knew of the Sereg courts fighting against the Ninn and what those who had yet to be aligned were doing.

There was a Sereg Lord, an old and powerful one, commanding several hundred or even thousand soldiers against the Elves. He was by all accounts a mad man―psychotic, ruthless, obsessed with killing off the Elven race as a whole. He ruled with an iron fist, allowing no freedom to any of his minions, excepting only four commanders beneath him to ensure his will was exercised. He was an international force, politically adept, militarily strong; he was in no hurry to execute his plans of extinction. Recently he had become incensed, with the emergence of a Hybrid in the world his plans had been jeopardized and he wasn't pleased Harry had fallen into Elven hands. It had taken him four years just to work out a way to break the wards surrounding the forest. Then he'd failed, the force he sent against the Elves had been stopped dead and the Hybrid has gotten away. Apparently the Lord had raged with crazed instability and killed several of his more elite soldiers before calming once more. All who knew of him feared him.

After revealing the information he had wanted, Harry had offered Katherine a choice. She could leave, he would drop her back in London (from the valley) and she could try to survive. Or she could join him, gain weapons, training, shelter and a constant guaranteed supply of magical blood; all she would have to do is swear fealty to him and listen to his order and direction. This was not a permanent thing, he had made it clear that sometime in the future her service would no longer be necessary and he would dismiss her with a healthy stipend of galleons and blood. She had grudgingly agreed and sworn her loyalty to him alone in both English and Elven; though she had argued the validity of the claim that it was indeed Elven.

Katherine could not enter into sunlight without facing burns from the magic so she had been confined to the cave for several hours until nightfall. The gargoyles had taken a particular interest in the Vampire, it was something they hadn't come in contact with before; something different from the Elves or the boy or any other creature in the forest. They didn't feel threatened at all by Katherine, likely because the adults dwarfed her by several feet and were considerably tougher than her; the cubs were utterly fascinated with her. Still innocent and unconcerned with battles of supremacy within the band, they hadn't left her alone much when they had the chance. That same curious one that had first tried to touch Harry when he'd arrived had persisted to follow Katherine around. He now resided close to the boy; Harry had decided that it might be useful to see whether or not such creatures could learn language and proper battle techniques..

As it was Katherine had been left at the cave while Harry went back to Diagon Alley and back to the shops. Initially Harry searched carefully for the appropriate materials to create a more suitable base within the forest of the Elves. This was mostly tools to carve more precise dimensions onto the cave so it would be level and stable enough to accept proper furniture. It had taken a while to properly apply all of the work to the stone and fully realize the expanse of the complex he now lived in.

Over the next month Harry had gone about buying everything he needed, trying to spread some of his buys out; he need not attract too much attention by dumping large amounts of galleons in one day. He had bought all types of products; furniture such as tables, shelves, chairs, couches, beds, stands, lighting, and cabinets; a store of pure magical silver shipped in from overseas and other parts of the continent; a full potion laboratory set up; work benches for other projects he might fancy; and a fully stocked library of various books. He had also purchased quality clothing for Katherine, to replace her rags, and a selection of weaponry in several metals and sheathes with other harness apparatuses.

This is what Harry now wore. Laced over his under layer of silk―he had been quite pleased with the Moreau clothing―he had strapped these harnesses. Over that he threw a long flowing black cloak to completely conceal his secrete supply. It was not exactly what one would deem to be suitable for the forest but there was no issue in caring for them. Not that it mattered at that point, Harry was rich enough to purchase a new set should anything ever happen to those he wore. His trunk, a black leather bound thing, had an expanded inside that allowed for several drawers to be kept within, this was not the most extensive of charms that could bought on a trunk but it suited his knees well enough. He could keep extra stores of blood and silver in the drawers easily while packing the rest of his camp gear and clothing in the compartment all in the space of a briefcase sized container.

Harry picked up the case containing his equipment and breathed in the air of the valley. He carefully analyzed the myriad of scents checking to ensure the cave and band of the gargoyles were secret. Harry then vanished to come into existence once more in an alley near King's Cross Station. He had explored some of London in his time in the human world establishing points in his mental map where it would be discreet to use his powers, and checking some of the locations Katherine had mentioned to be frequented by Vampires a few years prior. They had been busts.

The station was crowded, reeking of human corruption. Though some tints of magic crept through the cloud of the station, mixing with iron, steel, and fuels; the Magicals that happened to also on their way to the Platform 9 ¾ for the Hogwarts Express train. Harry followed dutifully the broad walk along counting past two other stations before turning off to go to the station he needed. The boy slipped in between the two sides of a large brick archway, striding smoothly through the invisible barrier. It was a unique piece of magic, one that hadn't been properly replicated since its creation; the 'barrier' was a permanent tunnel through space into a train terminal hidden from Muggles by extensive wards that mimicked the pocket dimensions of the Elves (not, though, that the Wizards were conscious of this fact).

He was still early. The platform was not as busy as it would be given a half hour or so but Harry preferred it that way. The train rested on the tracks, primed for departure, gleaming in its crimson glory with the golden letters emblazoned on the side of the locomotive. The marble gleamed brilliantly underneath the black shoes Harry wore, stretching on a long ways in both directions. Harry looked around examining a scene that would stick in his mind for years to come. Were he to take steps forward, he could attend Hogwarts, the ancient school a premier institution of the UK. Harry sneered, no, that was not his destiny yet. One such as him could only truly be useful with complete freedom, unhampered by the foolish policies of the Headmaster or the Ministry.

The boy stepped back, slipping into an alcove behind a column. Out of sight Harry vanished again, having had his look upon the famous locomotive. He reappeared in a sizeable village, a few miles distant the famous castle visible. The first step was taken and harry began his new course in his ultimate plans, ready to find his justice.

* * *

_**A/N:**_ _Not sure I am happy with chapter either but the last one was quite well received. This one is another set up chapter mostly and we've yet to see Tonks. I want to bring her in within two chapters (I know she isn't in the next one so far and it's mostly done, just some finishing) but honestly I am afraid of her character. I don't think I can do well in the light hearted and clumsy, loveable Metamorph character that she is. The humour has to be written in, and Nymphadora's character is all about humour and levity in canon. But she needs to be serious at some points as well. It's difficult to say the least. And I`m having some serious trouble._

_One of the longer chapters, story alone counts it at more than 9k for words, with the A/N's it's closer to 10k. Next chapter up within two weeks for sure, trying to stay ahead of the game for now and pump more life into this. Don't forget to leave some feedback, I try to take all of it into account when writing and reply to some personally. Input is greatly appreciated._


	10. Part II: Chapter 1

** _A/N:_**_Little late I know, I apologize for that. Had some difficulties getting this chapter how i wanted it again, it's better than it was but not perfect by any means. Thank to you all who have reviewed, your feedback is precious to me; we're at ten for each chapter average. Not too bad! I hope you all continue to review. I am frankly surprised that this little story has gained the following it has, I really need to go back and re-write the first two chapters at least; maybe that way more readers will stick around for the rest. My writing was rather undeveloped at the time I started Blood Lines, I fear it is adversely affecting the number of readers._

_Not many reviews to reply to directly this time, I did respond to a few with PM but I had a problem with the site for a few days so I don't know if any sent properly. _

_This will remain resolutely Harry/Tonks as the central pairing, I won't be changing from that now._

_And here is Part II Chapter 1 of Blood Lines. . . _

* * *

_**Blood Lines**_

_**Part II**_

_**Chapter 1**_

* * *

Forbidden Forest, Scotland

7pm-September 1, 1991

A figure popped into existence above the flat surface of the water, dropping silently into the black depths of the lake. Immediately it began to strike out through the water, gliding through the liquid, oblivious to the icy cold creeping into its skin. Eyes gleamed, picking out distant shapes; small people crowded into enchanted boats, propelled silently over the mirror. Its mouth opened, tasting the air and water as both entered a maw ringed with shining ivory teeth.

The children were awed. Struck by the magnificence of the ancient magical castle, the children's murmurs faded away into a shocked wonder. Here in the silence, here in the magic of the area, the glory of the castle could strike the individual gazing upon it. With the utmost stealth the figure crept closer to the boats. Sinking beneath the waters to moved further into the fleet, the faint lights of the castle shimmering into the first couple meters of the darkness.

It was a beautiful sight indeed. Massive towering structures of halls, pillars, an acropolis of epic proportions perched on bluffs, resting in the foothills of a mountain. Flickering amber lights illuminated the hundreds of windows, lending an ethereal glow in the haze of dusk, glittering on the glassy waters of the Black Lake. The air did not stir, the stillness of the moment preserved in the memory of every young one on the water, their eyes locked onto the view. The stars blinked in a clear sky, stretching unendingly beyond the edges of the mystic place. This castle was ever lasting, a bastion of magic and power seated firmly into the countryside.

There was little sound in the darkness, the gravity of the moment striking everyone. Breathing from the students, a giant of a man humming a cheery tune, the croak of a toad; that was all. Harry blinked water from his eyes. He had been drawn here, to watch the innocence of the children, the foolish dreams reflected in their eyes just as the flickering lights of the castle. His own might reflect the light but never the dreams, his were cold, vacant except for hunger, power, dead obsession.

Emerald glow emerged from the eyes glinting. Their keenness sliced cleanly between the shades of black in the water, catching the subtle movement of something large, a massive shapes slithering expanse of calm water. A great arm breached the surface, causing the ripples of a sluggish cavalry charge to spread steadily out from the source. The giant squid had risen from the depth pitch of the Black Lake, to greet the new students. The long slim body pulsed powerfully, beginning a steady movement before the boy suspended in the water. A truly huge eye locked with those of the boy, communicating a silent profound message between the two creatures as they gazed at each other there in the black. And the squid slid on, back into the deep, to its unique safety. It had been an acknowledgement.

The soft thump echoed in the water, the boats finding berth at the long platform protruding into the lake. Harry Potter watched the curved hulls of the vessels rock gently. The young wizards and witches, new students to the disciplines of magic, vacated the enchanted rowboats. They would no doubt be making their way up to the castle. Abyssal magic enveloped the boy beneath the rippling waves and he left the human dimension.

Harry entered once more in the Forbidden Forest. The expanse of woodland was outside of Hogwarts' physical wards, only a few early warning alarms placed further into the shadows; tuned so as to not go off when creature crossed the lines. He had found a clearing in the forest, ringed by ancient trees, easily after arriving in Hogsmeade. It had been interesting finding a way into the village initially; one visit to Diagon Alley several weeks prior had provided him an avenue with which to glean memories of the village. The witch he had taken the memories from remained unaware of the intrusion, untrained in the Mind Arts as she was, and it had been sufficient enough for the boy to focus. Drawing upon the black magic of his race Harry had concentrated it into a image to bring him to the front of the Three Broomsticks tavern.

Fortunately no one would be around to notice. It was a few miles before he would reach the main gate to Hogwarts if he chose to go in that direction. It was the path that the carriages had no doubt taken up to the castle from the Hogsmeade Station. Harry had chosen to walk the same path that morning that the First Years had walked to the dock leaving Hogsmeade, a short jaunt down an embankment. The boats carrying new students would float closely along the shoreline, coming along the massive bluffs before round a bend in the lake to the school. A massive walkway would span the gorge left by a miniscule stream running down to the black lake dozens upon dozens of meters below. The First Years, (which Harry had just left) would climb many stairs before reaching a stone courtyard and from there a perfectly square room opening into more stairs and corridors on three sides and the thick iron doors of the Great Hall. From where Harry was the castle was hidden, only the far shore, distant across black water, was visible, a small section of the Forbidden Forest. Not even the wards stretched out quite this far.

The wards of the school were not any single perfect shape, the stones used to generate the powerful wards, fed by a magic still not understood by any wizard. Many of the stones generated small fields that connected together around the perimeter of the school with an intensely complex runic pattern, set deep within the walls and foundation of the building (powerfully enchanted to be resilient beyond measure in their own right). However sections of the wards stretched out over the lake. The stones used for these sections lay hidden deep beneath the earth, secreted away into deep passages shooting off from the dungeons―their presence hidden by magic as well and known only to the Headmaster. It was a marvel of magic, unparalleled by anything in the modern age, except perhaps the hidden ways of the goblins or Elves (though few humans knew of them). Researchers were forbade from the sight, unable to access the stones; rumoured to be coated in carvings of a fair amount of unknown runes brimming with magic and potential.

Curse Breakers had tried in the past to pierce the wards using their methods of systematic dismantling of the magicks. Apparently the schemes utilized in the wards were particularly difficult to map in the first place, never mind the actual breaking of the first layer (which required knowing the maps of ward runes as they were projected into the invisible dome from the stones). And there were many layers to the wards beyond the initial warning ones, ones to stop physical entry of any objects or creatures, ones to stop magical energy from entering, others rigged for time delayed retaliation, and even more for triggered events. These were rumoured to range from minor stinging and confunding hexes and curses to full blown Armageddon wards designed to destroy anything trying to get in. It was an impressive set up.

Harry had gazed across the stretch of water and appeared on the other side of the lake. It had been a short simple thing to plunge into the depths of the forest, peaceful as they were during the day; the predators preferring night and few docile creatures brave enough to stand the exposure of daytime. A few minutes and the boy had happened to find the clearing, unused and uninhabited if judged by the physical sign. It even smelled as if it hadn't seen any creatures in a good while.

Harry re-entered his camp again. It was sparse by any stretch of the imagination―a fire set into the ground in the center of the clearing had a cauldron suspended of it (a simmering potion set within); a dozen or so meters above in a tree lay Harry's weapon case and the trunk he had brought with him safe from ground dwelling creatures; a slab of rock that coincidently was naturally placed served as a table; there was no bed, Harry rarely ever slept. There wasn't much but it would serve him well enough in the coming months. He was unaffected by temperature or precipitation, the winter would not bother him. And if it ever came down to it he could return to the valley.

For now it was quiet. Blessedly so, here in the forest it was a natural quiet. Untainted by the magic of the Elves, the humans, none of the power possessed by these creatures had truly influenced the area. Here deep within the wild untamed depths of the forest Harry was at ease. He could feel the subtle danger of the denizens there but was unfazed, whatever it held; he could deal with it easily enough.

The boy looked at the potion, simmering away over the fire. The orange light licked up and around the bottom of the cauldron, writhing in a frenzied energy. Misty vapour rose in thin wavering tendrils from the liquid, dissipating into the still air. Harry turned his head, sniffing the air; something, something wasn't right. There was a flicker in the back of his mind. Harry sniffed again . . .then growled low in his throat.

* * *

Hogwarts School, Scotland

7:23pm-September 1, 1991

Disappointment fluttered in his heart. The Headmaster of Hogwarts sat at his appointed seat, the center of the Head Table, putting on a facade joviality to hide the pain. Harry Potter had not come. That was the last hope, that perhaps the boy would arrive, well and healthy, to the school on this day. A letter had been made miraculously with the Potter name on it, yet had refused to be sent. The magic of the school had somehow detected Harry Potter but the owl had been unable to carry the letter. Maybe he was still out there, Malkin had flooed him a few weeks before claiming to have seen someone like the boy. Thus the old man had hoped perhaps he would arrive.

Alas it was for naught. The Madam had sputtered on about a new client she hadn't seen before, ordering a ridiculously expensive wardrobe without blinking an eye―an emerald green eye, so reminiscent of dear Lily's. The woman had begun to cry then, reminded of the red head that had been so kind, generous to everyone around her. Albus couldn't do anything except reassure the woman he would look into it and send her away. The Headmaster decided that to inform the Advance Guard to this information was pointless; Harry had eluded them for years to search now on a miniscule hope would be cruel to those he told. It had been a hope, now dashed on the shore of reality. Harry Potter, wherever he was, he didn't want them, he didn't want Hogwarts. Albus sighed.

"Are you okay Albus?" McGonagall, a wonderful woman. Always fair, forever just, she was a worthy deputy and a wonderful teacher.

"Yes of course Minerva, only thinking of the new students." The Headmaster smiled over his half moon spectacles.

"The Potter boy is not among them. I had . . . hoped, that he would be here. What does it mean? That he isn't here." The stern Scottish woman looked down at her plate vulnerable.

Albus lifted his goblet of gold gently between three fingers and sipped at the lemon flavored cider within. "It means we must go on. There are students here to teach and graduates to prepare, we can't allow one absence to bother us." The ancient wizard smiled. "After all, this batch of graduates is especially mischievous, particularly Miss Tonks and that Weasley boy. And the Weasley Twins as well no doubt."

McGonagall made a noise in her throat and turned back to her food. Albus sipped again from his goblet, gazing back out over the students. Much was unexpected this year. Harry not arriving was far from the only discrepancy in the routine of each Hogwarts school term. Quirinus had changed during his trip, had started to stutter with an unusual nervousness; the man had even volunteered to brave the infamous curse upon the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. Most out of character for the relatively young wizard. The Philosopher's Stone had been moved out of Gringott's back (to the infinite ire of the goblins) and placed in the school on Nicholas' request as it seemed he did not trust the bank. Albus had agreed, placing numerous protections around the stone and secreting it away in hidden chambers deep below the third floor. Albus didn't like it but he could only agree because of the help and mentoring Nicholas had given him years ago.

Dumbledore was a long way from happy with the arrangements for the stone. It felt vulnerable, dangerous, to have the stone hidden here. Amongst the students and faculty, they could be at risk were anyone to discover that the stone had been moved from its place in the vaults to the castle. If someone tried to break in and get past the protections; the students could be at risk to become collateral damage. Innocents caught in the crossfire of those who hunger for immortality or riches. It was very dangerous, even that Cerberus that Hagrid had contributed, Fluffy, was a risk to the students; they hadn't informed the Board of Governors about that particular piece of information.

There was little he could do though. Prepare for a year full of uncertainties was definitely one of the only actions he could take. And that did not consist of much these days. Why he hadn't been so uncertain of a school term since Tom Riddle was wandering the school . . . Riddle, his greatest failure, his greatest shame. Lord Voldemort, how could he have missed the boy's darkness? But it had been difficult, Riddle's charm, his thirst for knowledge, all of the questions. Albus had been blind to the boy's true thirst, the evil contained within that handsome exterior. And now, now there was an object inside the school that the supposedly vanquished Dark Lord would stop at nothing for. Such a feat of alchemy had been hidden by Flamel himself during the time of the Dark Lord's first rise, this time rumors were flying that an example of the stone was on the island and that it was being held in London. Not quite the reality but too close for comfort.

Dumbledore gave his speech after all had finished eating. The previous year had seen an unusual amount of students sneaking into the Forbidden Forest, beyond the wards of the school. The Headmaster gave a pointed look at the Weasley twins as he reiterated his warning, twinkling blue eyes boring into the two red headed brothers as they waved cheerily back. It seemed there was no stopping the two boys from their mischief and trouble making, much like the Tonks girl and her friend (another Weasley). Dumbledore smiled benignly, to be young again―the joys of getting up to no good. Every year had a group of students that broke curfew, played pranks and wandered the forest. Despite the best efforts of Filch and prefects they still managed to get out and about.

This year was slightly different. He hoped that his warning had been severe enough to prevent anyone from wandering down the third floor corridor. The Cerberus was trained to attack anyone who trespassed in its territory and it would follow that training with extreme vigilance. The enchantments surrounding the cavernous chamber of the Cerberus would be enough to deter a curious student and the three headed dog itself would hopefully handle any intruders with more sinister motives.

The wizard led his students in the singing of the age old school song with appropriate gusto. His heart may not have been in it, but the students could never know that, nor the faculty. Albus smiled at the Twins already delving into their troublesome habits. He dismissed the students back to their dorms and phoenix flashed back to his office with Fawkes' aid sans any further ado.

* * *

Hidden Valley, Elven Forest

7:25pm-September 1, 1991

Harry dropped into existence outside his forest headquarters. It was quiet, unnaturally so. Immediately he knew something was wrong, anger, fear and aggression laced the air of the forest. Elves, there were Elves in the area, hardly a good sign. This was his place, his freedom. Katherine was near him, armed with a silver weapon and the Elves were some distance away, they too armed with silver, coated in the deadly 'Holy Water.' They lurked somewhere in the gloom of the setting sun, the Elves before him, his own pack behind him.

Katherine snarled at his back. Harry turned, his wings folding in around the woman in a protective cocoon. Three arrows bit into the wings and his back, through the soft feathers and into the flesh , Harry's lips twitched as the burn of the enchanted metal entered his blood.

Growls surrounded the boy and the woman; the gargoyles had emerged from the cave, scenting the Elves. Harry heard the whistle of more arrows, his eyes caught movement and the projectiles clattered against hard scale armour. A shriek, then moaning. A young gargoyle, armour still soft and undeveloped had been hit and lay on the ground grey blood leaking from the puncture wound of the arrow in his chest. The dark grey liquid soaked up into the soil creating a viscous mud, sticking to the young beast as he writhed in pain. The Beta, in all his massive scarred ferocity, charged with a roar, sprinting in a thundering boom toward the group of Elves concealed in the branches of the trees.

Harry released Katherine and pushed her toward the cave, it was far too likely she could be killed by the enchanted weapons. At the same time there was a large crash and the shrill wailing of destroyed wood, a senescent tree keeled over and the gargoyle snorted in rage. The Elves dropped from the tree, two leaping to safety in other branches and one hitting the ground in a crouch. The Beta pounced on the fallen Elf, snatching the slim woman by the throat, tossing her easily through the splintered trunk of the tree and into another still standing. When she hit the second trunk the gargoyle was already there, pinning her to the wood and readying itself to plunge a hand into her body.

Arrows, one after the other, skipped off of the shoulder plates of the Beta. It was mere annoyance to the large beast. However the black cloud of magic that wrapped itself around the creature's abdomen and wrists was not as easily ignorable, especially so when it plucked the weighty predator off of the Elf and restrained it floating in the air. The flight of arrows stopped. The female Elf that the gargoyle had held stood warily and the two in the trees descended to the ground. The three glanced at the gargoyle held in magical restraints cautiously looked, they flinched when black tendrils of magic leaped into existence around them. Before any of them could really react fully to the dark magic each had their own bindings coiling around their arms and legs, lifting them into the air alongside the gargoyle.

Harry rubbed his jaw. The wings on his back retracted, bloodied arrows falling to the ground as the flesh they were embedded within vanished, though he allowed the rest of his change to remain present. The Abyssal magic brought the captives of his power before him, suspending them for examination in front of the boy. The young gargoyle still lay moaning in a subdued way, the blood flow had slowed and the beast was weakened, clawing feebly at the embedded wooden shaft. The boy ignored the juvenile, focussing on the Elves as they were relieved of their weapons.

Harry's head cocked to the side as he noticed the blood that had begun to drip forth from the nose and mouth of the female Elf, the same effect appeared in the two male Elves a moment later. He blinked, picking out the dead rot that spread lethargically through the flesh from the from the contact areas of the magic. Harry sighed and let the Elves drop to the ground, motioning for several gargoyles to take over mechanical restraint of the Elves.

The Beta seemed unaffected by the magic but when the Elves fell to the ground he opened his maw, "N―" The gargoyle's voice was cut off as a tentacle of magic wrapped around its head, forcing its jaw closed.

_/Silence/Beta follow orders/do not move/_

The Beta growled. It had improved in mental communication marginally, enough so that the simple images and impressions Harry had initially used had become obsolete. Still it seemed the brute had taken to finding whatever small defiance it could. It had nearly spoken, interesting to see the language lessons had be going so well.

Harry spared a glare at the creature. "Now then. What is that you want? To come to my home and attack my pack." His eyes bore into the Elves, each looking up at him, remnants of blood clinging to their lips. They looked as all Elves do: tall; slim; well muscled; brimming with magic that hummed with the trappings of power; silken clothing styled as all Elven garb.

The only female of the three had brilliant white skin, nearly as pale as a Vampire's. Her eyes glittered, bright silvery grey lit with authority. She was more muscular than most female Elves, lacking the soft curves of Eleniel or any other of the women Harry had interacted with. Her hair framed a diamond shaped face, sharp forehead, thin brow, sharp eyes and a pointed nose above a small mouth. She was, though, smaller than the other Elves, nearly shorter than Harry and far less imposing.

The two males looked to be to be brothers. They were familiar; Onvyr and Lorsan, twins. An oddity of the race, they were, seeing as twins were so rare among the Fair Folk. Harry had trained with them in group battle tactics and challenges. The two were good men, skilled with their bows ferocious fighters when the instance called for it. The twins were extraordinarily skilled trackers as well, perhaps why he had been discovered. Both were particularly slender examples of the race, tall and whip-like in stature. Each had the same silver hair cascading down their shoulders, the same strong jaw, thin lips, ice blue eyes with bushy brows adorning bare foreheads. They only looked at him without expression, admirable because of the pain no doubt caused by the magic.

The female spat a globule of blood at the Hybrid. Onvyr glanced at her and sighed, "I apologize for Liluth; she did not expect to find Sereg when we came here."

The female snarled, "Vampire swine! You're a blight upon the world, burn in the daylight!" she screamed madly, glaring at Katherine whom had emerged from the cave.

Harry spared a glance at her, watching her struggle against the infinitely stronger and larger fanged gargoyles. "Onvyr, Lorsan. I ask again what do you want?"

"Harry, we've come to join you if you'd have us . . ." The twins stared pleadingly at Harry. Decorum tended to disappear when battle had been engaged in and blood spilt. The dignity of the race left when subjected to the power of the Hybrid

"I am Lord Potter now, you would do well to remember that." Harry's patience was wearing thin, he had not planned to have this interruption in his day. "Why would you come to me? Did I not garner fear and resentment from your race? None of you wished for me to be in your city, your King never _graced_ me with his presence. In fact I know my contact with your people was suppressed, I only ever met a few of you out of hundreds, thousands."

"Very well Lord Potter. But we want to fight. The Sereg," Liluth sneered and spat more blood while Lorsan spoke, "Pierced the wards, they would have wreaked destruction were it not for you. Yet the Eldar Council and the Court both refuse to do anything about them. They fear the leader, they do not want to fight a war. But war is what they have."

Harry paced before his captives. "What is your point?"

"We want to fight you fool of a child! Staying in our city won't allow us to! So here we are." Liluth screeched.

Katherine stalked forward and slapped the Elf woman hard across the face. "You will not speak with such disrespect to Lord Potter." Liluth spun to the side, four bleeding lines slashed into her cheek, stopped from a mouthful of dirt by the muscle of plated arms.

Harry smirked, "That's enough Katherine. Go see if you can drag that injured gargoyle into the cave, do what you can for him without removing the arrow." Katherine bowed her head, eyes closed and walked off. "As you can see, that 'swine' has sworn fealty to me. You wish to fight the Vampires. You must do so as well if you wish to fight this war with me. Understand that is not my only goal, should you join me then you will follow my every order . . . without question. I have little patience for petty arguments against my authority.

Take the oath and you will see more than your forest. I take the fight to the Sereg and others, but keep in mind that we may very well have to battle with your kind. I am not in the favour of Elves anymore, not after Eleniel―did she survive the injury?"

The brothers nodded, accepting, "We accept the terms. We only wish to stop the attacks and finish this war, it has gone on too long. Another of our communities on the mainland was raided two weeks ago, no survivors." Moisture gathered in the two pairs of blue eyes, "We had family there. They have passed now but still we are not permitted to stop more of the attacks.

Ekara-Eleniel . . .She survived, but it does not bode well for her. The injury was grave, mortal were it not for your magic; that in part has stopped the hunt for you. Many are calling for your head, recompense for so damaging the oldest Elf to have existed."

Harry looked at Liluth, "And you?" he ignored the information about Eleniel, she had lived and that was the only thing that was of importance.

As she had a penchant for, the woman spat again, "I will not fight alongside the very creatures we set out to destroy!"

"Killing the Vampire Lord responsible for the attacks is not the only objective I have in mind. There are more important concerns that will be dealt with first, I am not going to battle directly with this mysterious leader. I lack the information required for these moves, something that will perhaps be remedied by the two men next to you. You want the war over? Then you will have to put aside that prejudice you feel toward Katherine and any other creature I might invite to join me, such as the gargoyles. That is the _only_ way you will leave here with your memory intact, or at all for that matter."

The Elf glared at him challengingly. "Very well, Katherine!" The woman appeared from the depths of the cave, "See about making a cell of some sort out of one of the deeper sections of the cave, something that can contain our guest here." She spun on her heel. Harry turned back to the restrained Liluth, and Onvyr and Larson whom had been released by the gargoyles on a silent command. A second command, an armoured fist cracked into Liluth's skull hard enough to knock the Elf out.

Harry sniffed, "Now then, you swear to me as your lord and master until such time that you are released? On your magic and honour as Ninn and dwellers of the forest?"

Both Ninn took deep breaths and replied in sync, "We do." Following with the Elven equivalent of the oath.

"Well, there are some . . .guidelines to lay forth. One, you refer to as Lord Potter or Milord, I am head of the Potter house and deserve the respect due such a station, whatever you may think of human practice. Two, I may order you to do unsavoury despicable things in the time that you serve me, you will do so; this is necessary to further the goal, if this is distasteful to you that's too bad because I do not care. Most of the worst will be done by me personally though. Katherine is second in command, you follow her orders as if they were from me directly, this is the third. And fourth, there are a variety of tasks that must be done to ensure our success in these ventures we undertake, it may take several years so get used to servitude now."

The Elves stood and nodded solemnly, "It is nothing more than we expected Milord," it was Larson that spoke, "We were prepared to serve you when we left, we knew that it was very likely the only way to escape the hold of the Eldar and the Court. You are a great warrior, a master of the forbidden magicks and we will gladly follow you just as we did our Ekara back in the city."

Harry allowed the slightest grin to touch his expression, Elves were simple enough creatures when it came completely down to the basics. They followed the strongest, those who had the nerve, the courage and power to prove themselves worthy of the leadership. He had done so and now he had two elves ready to die for him. "Excellent. Try and remove this broken lumber will you. I have a gargoyle to ensure is recovering from your attack and then I will be returning to my field camp. Katherine will direct you in what to do for the mean time. If you can convince Liluth to join you I won't erase her memories of this place and drop her in the forest." Harry turned but looked back, "Oh and one more thing."

Harry held his arm up, hand stretched toward the pair. A flicker of strain passed before a long tendril of white light, blindingly bright, slithered out of his skin light some ethereal serpent. The snake divided into several branches, each reaching out to the dead rot of the Abyss. The tentacle dove in through the skin of the Elves as they watched fascinated. The black of dead flesh was lit from within; glowing with the scarlet of blood and the glow crept up each twisting mark. As the glow travelled the scarring disappeared leaving the perfect skin of the Elves behind, visible as the Abyssal magic had dissolved the clothing it touched. The Hybrid disappeared into the caved.

Unseen behind the boy the twin Elves looked at each other. Their heads bowed to Harry's back and to work they went. Shifting lumber to the side for later use and working their way through the location of the short battle. They would have to retrieve their packs later from where they had been hidden.

The young injured gargoyle lay against a wall in the haze of the, weakly dozing in and out of conscience, the blood reduced to a slow but steady trickle, soaking through the fabric wadded around the arrow shaft. Harry knelt in front of the juvenile creature, picking away the cloth with a cautious tenderness. Grey blood welled up silently. The boy placed a hand on the gargoyle's chest while the other wrapped firmly around the shaft, a sharp jerk and the silver head popped free of the black flesh and undeveloped armour. The issue of liquid increased, Harry blew air from his nose drawing on his focus again.

The white light of the Angelic power sputtered over his hand. Harry tried to push it out to the cub, forcing his will into the magic. For a moment the light reached out but an instant before touching the black hole of the wound. A pulse of energy broke from Harry's body, spreading in a wide arc from him, at the same time the white sparked and turned into a deep shadow hungrily thrusting into the wound. The cub roared in pain, waking up abruptly and swinging an arm at Harry. The dark skin held a large portion of heavy muscle and it was enough to toss the boy aside and cause him to skip and skid over the rough hewn stone floor.

The magic faltered, throbbing darkly, feeding on the wound as the gargoyle screamed and thrashed. The tendrils of power multiplied, twisting and entwining around the gargoyle's limbs. Suddenly the appendages began to strain, as if the web of magic was physical rope tightening over the beast's body. It continued to pulse brightly with black flaring lights and the gargoyle still writhed and screamed on the ground. Whatever was happening was causing immense pain in the creature, beneath the plates that were not obscured thick ropy veins were visible pushing out against the soft covering. Every iota of strength within the cub was devoted to fighting the force besetting its young body and mind. And then, it was gone. The magic vanished, like a wizard apparating away it simply was replaced with nothing.

Harry opened his eyes, pushing himself off of the ground. The victim of the rogue magic had quieted now, falling back into blissful unconsciousness. The boy frowned looking at the cub and his hand immediately after. He licked his lips, making a snap decision, it was based strongly in curiosity and wonder but he refused to turn back on strange reaction to his power the gargoyle had had. He would take the cub with him, study it carefully, discover what had happened and perhaps utilize it to his advantage. That had been the first time his power had betrayed him, turned it's darkness upon him. The Hybrid was not pleased with that fact, though intrigued with the possibility that it could be used. The reaction could be used, manipulated in such a way that it could be maintained and altered to give the cub more power. Of course much work and research would be needed but it would prove interesting to delve into this unknown facet of magic.

Ignoring the appearance of his pack―the two Elves, the Vampire and multiple gargoyles―Harry checked the cub's vitals and finding them acceptable drew up a portal and vanished through it. He was taking the cub to the Forbidden Forest; his camp was an adequate place to study and experiment, while keeping the young beast from the wrath of the Beta or other aggressive males. It would even prevent any unfortunate reactions from causing too much collateral damage to his base. It wasn't a perfect plan but it would do for now.

* * *

Forbidden Forest, Scotland

10:21pm-September 1, 1991

Harry released pent up breath. He had examined the gargoyle cub as thoroughly as he could without the appropriate tools. The wound had closed, nothing but a rough scar left. Slight vestigial remains of the Abyssal magic clung to the tissue, lingering like malignant parasitic insects around the raw area. It was not visible but he could taste it, scent the magic, feel it tingling in his skin when he touched the scar. The cub had yet to regain conscious and he did not expect it to anytime soon, the ordeal was not something to just be shaken off.

It had taken a considerable amount of energy to first summon the dark magic and later the light. Harry felt the first burns in his throat of that unquenchable thirst for blood that followed him everywhere he went. It was not easily ignorable. Nothing he had on hand would make it any easier to continue, he needed real, powerful blood to restore his strength to where he would not require sleep. Harry had no time to sleep, he needed to scout the forest further, find out what was around him in the night and what might intrude upon his slumbering guest. He would need to call the necessary refreshment in, were he honest it was unclear if his body had the energy to summon more magic.

"Fane." The House Elf _popped_ into his camp, luminous eyes glowing brightly with eagerness. "I need blood. Private stock from Eleniel; as fast as you can manage."

"Right away Milord." The Elf _popped_ out and a moment later _popped_ back in holding a large bottle of deep red.

Harry accepted the blood from his Head House Elf without a word. Snapping the stopper off, he drained the container in two long draughts. Harry sighed contentedly, waving the House Elf away (whom _popped _out again silently). The House Elves were useful, loyal servants to carry out menial tasks when he required them. Maybe they would take on a greater role at some point but really having such high numbers of the diminutive creatures was unnecessary. Most of them would remain to care take after the many properties he still held, though most of the Potter fortune liquidity had been frittered away on a failed war effort more than a decade before. Fane was his personal servant, to carry out his whims.

Harry considered the sleeping gargoyle for a moment. An injected potion would keep the young one sleeping longer than the stress and pain would and a House Elf could easily watch over it while he was gone. Gaining the House Elves hadn't been the easiest thing but it had been well worth it.

* * *

_Hidden Valley, Elven Forest_

_11am-August 1, 1991_

"_Harry Potter, sir! We always knowed you was living somewheres sir!"Twelve dozen diminutive House Elves screeched simultaneously, exalted. "Yous want to renew the bond now?"_

_Harry flinched sharply. He was in a large room, one yet to be furnished but that had been formed out of one cavernous chamber in the deeper part of the cave. It wasn't the mass compression of the room from the spontaneous occupation of a large volume of space. Nor was it the whiny voices of one hundred forty four House Elves. Not even their overt enthusiasm made him flinch. It was the fact that twelve dozen miniature creatures rushed him, completely surrounding him in a swarm of bodies._

_An instant before they converged upon him, Harry vanished in a wisp of black magic. Collectively the House Elves moaned in disappointment then cheered when their Master reappeared just on the other side of the room. Arms out stretched they rushed toward him, small children charging for a new toy. _

"_STOP!" Harry yelled. Instantly the servants came to a dead stop. The boy let out a quiet sigh, "Now then. What exactly must be done to renew the bond with you all?"_

_The House Elves cheered again, "Blood! Harry Potter sir needs to gives each of us some of his blood!" thankfully only one Elf spoke this time; slightly taller than the others, head held high with professionalism and pride. Hard to imagine with his body covered only by a now tattered piece of what was obviously once fine cloth, that much nakedness did not promote pride. Especially so on the thin, dirty bodies of House Elves that appeared somewhat ill. _

"_Very well." A straight, flat blade, flicked from his sleeve, slicing a thin line through the tough skin of his palm as if it were butter. As his blood welled forth, Harry clenched the hand into a fist to quench most of the stream. Uniformly the Elves gathered in front of him, the lead Elf taking first position._

"_You must says the Elveses names and accept them as bonded to yous, touching with yous blood. Ises Fane, Harry Potter sir."_

_Harry nodded and lifted his first, thick globules falling from his fist. Two fell upon the brow of Fane and sparked with magic, "I Lord Harry James Potter accept this House Elf, Fane, unto my household to serve until such time I choose dismiss him or he leaves this world." The boy attempted to use formal language, drawing some faint knowledge of custom from the recesses of his mind. _

_Fane, a newly indentured serf gazed up at the boy with tennis ball sized eyes, glistening with tears and joy at being properly accepted back into the Potter service. "Thank yous, Master." The House Elf bowed deeply, and backed away, far more quiet than previously. _Only one hundred forty three more to go. . .

_Harry slumped back into one of the few chairs he had bought thus far. "Fane, send for Katherine__―__I need her." Without a word the Elf bowed, popping away with hardly a sound. Harry sighed once more. The blood spent in the last hour had built for him a small army of totally devoted attendants with undetectable and often powerful magic. It had though, left Harry with some exhaustion; a result of the spilt blood. He needed to replenish._

_Katherine walked into the room, spying him laying limply on the chair. "The bonding went well, Milord?"_

"_Yes, yes. Required more blood than I had thought though. Come here." Harry waved his hand vaguely. Katherine stiffly made her way to the boy and stood attentively before him. The Hybrid heaved himself to his feet and heavily dropped forward, dragging the Vampire's neck to him. His fangs slid into the junction of her neck and shoulder, sapping away her blood. Her head leaned back, eyes rolling back as the magic injected through his fangs flooded her body with numbing effects and a euphoric pleasure unattainable through other means. Harry drank deeply, growing stronger. He allowed Katherine to fall back to her knees, dazed as he stood upright fully. "Thank you, Katherine. Go take something from the stores and continue with your cataloguing."_

_Harry wiped arm over his mouth._

* * *

Admittedly their reaction had been less than favourable. Mad dwarves running around with their arms out stretched, gleeful light consuming their eyes, it had been quite frightening at first. Harry was used to hatred, fear, caution, even indifference. But the House Elves revered him as a god, falling over themselves to ensure his every need was taken care of. Really rather unsettling.

Harry set the bottle that had contained the blood on the rock slab. He had rinsed it out with water held in a crystal decanter to avoid attracting attention from any predators in the area. Those would need to be dealt with on his terms.

The boy adjusted the long cloak on his shoulders and swept through the trees, bare feet cracking no branches or debris under him as he walked. He was as a ghost among a dark forest.

* * *

_**A/N:**__One final note; in the coming weeks I may or may not be starting yet another HP fic hesitantly centered around a Harry/Fleur pairing. This is to be written in either first or second person in Harry. I have some ideas for more new magicks, again to do with Demons and summoning and all the fun that comes with that (legality, taboos, Hell, familiars, etc). Either Sirius will feature strongly as a mentor/friend instead of a father figure or maybe an OC giving Harry power (in this case, no attendance of Hogwarts but still around for TriWizard), and Harry will likely be older than canon by at least a year. I am thinking the end of third year/summer for the start with Harry entering a tutorship with Sirius or the OC. More humor in this one too, I hope anyways. If there are readers who want to see this fic sooner rather than later drop a review mentioning it for this chapter and if there's enough interest, I'll write out a chapter one or prologue and publish it with the next update of Blood Lines (a week, week and a half). . . and stick up a poll with pairing options if Fleur isn't popular._

_Thank you all._

_Nazran_


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